Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender
by Finnobhair
Summary: American Grace Grant, newly back in the states in the summer of '42 after a discharge from the British Army is a new addition to Easy Company. Being the wild card was never a truer statement. Proving herself to the Brits was troublesome and now she's back at square one-and this time it's with her own. Speirs/OC.
1. Chapter 1

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Rated**: M – for violence, language, and mature/adult situations

**Summary**: American Grace Grant, newly back in the states in the summer of '42 after a discharge from the British Army and new addition to the 101st, 506th, 2nd Battalion, Company E. Proving herself to the Brits was troublesome, now she's back at square one – but this time it's with her own kind.

(**Also**: Any historical mistakes I make, I apologize for. I've done as much research as I could. I'm considering this a kind of historical-fiction so any interruption in factual events should be overlooked. Also, seeing as this is an OC/Speirs story – Speirs, in THIS world, is a single man)

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

_You'll never see the courage I know_

_Its colors' richness won't appear within your view_

_I'll never glow the way that you glow_

_Your presence dominates the judgments made on you._

"Jumped on with the Royal Army Medical Corps in 1940, quickly transferred to the 127th Parachute Regiment to serve with the field ambulance there, and in 1941 taken by the 1st Battalion Parachute Regiment", the older and distinguished man flipped the page of her rather long resume, thumbing it absently as he read on, "Ran with the Special Air Service in July of '41; fought in Operation Crusader in November then promoted with Special Op's and Forces; stationed in North Africa until discharged in May and sent to us one week ago." Colonel Sink's eyes crinkled over at her still form from his large window.

"Yes, sir" She replied, her eyes meeting his. She made sure to stay still, the damn heat in this state, in this time of year did nothing but irritate her – especially in her US Army dress greens; even having a skirt didn't help, neither did the still-mending wound in her left shoulder. She'd had worse though – she'd been in Africa.

"The British General was certainly sad to see you go. I'm glad he did – the brass considers you quite the asset to us. You've seen action, you've made a combat jump, you've been shot at – our boys need to know what they're up against and you provide for us one hell of a unique insight." Colonel Sink looked out onto the baking Georgia land before him, "I will not sugar coat this – there are _some_ who think this an unwise decision – based on your gender", he looked her hard now, "but me and a lot of higher up's think that's a load of bull. We don't have the same mind set as your old XO. I hope you know that".

Keeping herself from grinning at the man who suddenly reminded her of her late grandfather, she simply nodded her head, "Yes, sir. I do sir".

He smirked and nodded his assistant over, "Good. I'm officially signing you into the 101st Airborne, 506th 2nd Battalion. I am placing you in our best company, our main assault company – Easy Company. Based on your combat experience, your training, your decorations awarded to you; I'm officially making you a First Sergeant".

Her eyes snapped up from the pen in his hand, "Sir" –

"No First Sergeant, you have earned this. I don't care what note your former XO may have attached to your discharge papers. You were honorably discharged to us." His quick hand signed the dotted line fluidly, "Your position here will be an exclusive one Sergeant Grant. I know as a field ambulance member, you accompanied injured men to aid stations, but here – you're Easy Company's diamond-in-the-rough. On the battlefield, you will stay on the front, letting the two medics under you take injured men away, while here in Toccoa you will take the men through some rigorous medical field training, you will train with them, make the four jumps with them to earn your US Paratrooper wings. You straddle the fence – you're a combat medic _and_ a soldier who's fired more than one round at the enemy; to us that makes you a priceless commodity."

Pride bubbling up inside her, she nodded curtly, "Thank you, sir".

The Colonel stood up, "your captain, Captain Herbert Sobel, knows of your arrival and should be out with the men soon to run Currahee – the mountain outside my window. Care to join them and meet the men?"

She felt the current of her strong competiveness whirl in her veins even though her shoulder was beginning to groan at her, "yes sir. Thank you very much, sir, for this opportunity and your trust in me. I will not let you down". Her dark hazel eyes held his and he smiled fully now, she felt herself begin to smirk back, infectious.

"Very good; you're already talking like a paratrooper. First Sergeant Grace Grant, welcome to the United States 101st Airborne". He came towards her and stopped, pinning her with the insignia of 'First Sergeant'.

She snapped a salute to him, which he returned. She turned on her heel and briskly walked out of his office.

An orderly stopped her right outside, "First Sergeant Grant".

"Yes Private", her eyes darted down to his name on his OD's, "Favley"

"Colonel Sink has instructed me to inform you that your personal effects are already in Easy Company's barracks. They are the barracks at the back southeast corner of the camp, all barracks are marked on the side." He saluted her sharply, she returned it and he stalked off.

She nodded her thanks to the air after him. She knew it was not her imagination telling her the private was uncomfortable speaking to the only girl around Toccoa, even if it was a command from the good Colonel. She thumbed her garrison cap, tucked in at her hip; _First Sergeant_ _Grant_? She worried her bottom lip, as she does when she's anxious – how will the men in her new company respond to _that_?

While stationed in North Africa, she'd been a part of a very small Special Operations group – they saw a lot of action; hell, they saw more German soldiers than their British counterparts. Point being – she never really needed to make introductions, play nice, do with the mind-games of the higher ups…her experience and ability were renowned and they spoke for her. Also, being the only female and only American there, she was a lone wolf. She wondered absently, looking around the empty hallway when she'd forgot how to socialize.

Looking around the hallway and spotting a small door, she found a latrine, letting herself in, she sighed in relief as she saw the mirror above the washbasin. Today had been a lot to take in, and only half the battle was over. She'd braved the Colonel, sure, but she has the rest of the company and her CO to face. She studied her pale face in the mirror; it'd been a while since she's worn any kind of makeup. She was able to find some white blotting powder, some mascara, and some pink-hued lipstick – the bare minimum according to any normal female, but for Grace it felt like heaps. _How will my skin fair with the unforgiving sun here?_ She asked herself idly. Rolling her eyes, she ran her fingers through her auburn hair. She'd gotten through North Africa of all places – well I suppose they're right: 'you can put the girl in the army, but you can't take the _girl_ out of the girl' or however the saying goes.

If there was any place her gender was painfully present, it was here in this damn skirt. What she would give for her pants, sweating and swearing and dirty like the rest of the men. Being in a tight skirt, and a very fitted shirt and jacket and high heels clicking under her, her curves sticking out to her like sore thumbs; there was absolutely no way she'd blend in on her first day.

Staring hard at her reflection and tossing her curled hair over her left shoulder, she took a deep breath. _I look like I belong in a damn USO show right now_, she thought bitterly. Shutting off her thoughts and the pain coming from her shoulder, which was beginning to burn, she turned on her heel once more and made her way out and to the front door of the building and into the sun.

She felt the beginnings of butterfly wings in the pit of her stomach and attempted to quiet them with a small cough, "well, now or never Grant", she muttered, placing her garrison cap on her head at the right tilt. She looked over the camp swiftly, and began walking to where her new barracks would be.

Floyd Talbert just finished tying his boots when he heard George Luz call out.

"Make a path boys! Incoming!" George called out. Floyd could see the familiar mop of brown hair come through the crowd of men, he came to a stop right next to Talbert's bunk. "Hi there Tab. I got ya a new neighbor".

Tab narrowed his brown eyes, "What do you mean Luz?"

"New guy, huh? Where?" Bill Guarnere and Joe Liebgott, who's bunks were nearby came over to inspect the situation.

George looked at them, "Nope, not here yet – he's over with Sink right now, or so I've heard". He turned to the privates behind him who had the new guy's footlocker in their arms, "Right here fellas." He turned back to the three men in front of him, "from what I hear, the new kid was in North Africa with the British, seen some action".

Bill's eyebrows went up, impressed. Liebgott perked up, "is that right?" He looked at Tab expectantly.

"Don't look at me, I don't know anything about it; it's news to me", he said, watching the footlocker get placed at the end of the bunk next to his.

"New guy's seen action?" Donald Malarkey poked his head into the circle of four.

Bill shrugged, "sounds like it Malark, should be interesting".

George appraised the footlocker briefly, "would ya look at this – new guy's a First Sergeant" he kicked the footlocker at the painted stripes bearing the rank on the side.

"New First Sergeant, huh?" Lieutenant Lewis Nixon walked over, his ever-present smirk on his face.

"So they found an NCO to replace White", Another man, Carwood Lipton, had followed Nixon over and put two-and-two together.

"Looks like it Lip", Tab said. Hopefully this new guy will be more 'there' with them than White. Try as he might, Tab couldn't seem to get to know that guy, then he dropped out suddenly.

"HEY! Hey guys!" Suddenly through the door of the barracks, Warren 'Skip' Muck and Frank Perconte ran in, "the new kid got placed here?" Muck asked, clearly winded.

"Jesus Skip, you run Currahee without us?" George laughed.

"Yeah, new kid's with us apparently", Nixon answered.

Perconte smirked, "well get out here and get a load o' her".

"_HER?_" Bill and Joe said together.

Without an answer, Skip and Frank turned and left the barracks in a hurry. The remaining men cast one quizzical glance at one another and then bounded for the door.

The rest of Easy was outside in their PT gear, their heads all turned to the right. It was simple to spot the 'new kid' – every head turned _her_ way.

Squinting slightly from the afternoon sun, Grace purposefully put one heel in front of the other. At every 'click' on the ground she inwardly winced – the sound of the heels were like a cattle call to these men. _Shoulders back, posture is important_.

She idly noticed the rest of the camp was in their OD's – their Olive Drabs. The building that bore the mark of her new company had men standing outside of it in their PT outfits. _Jesus those are some short shorts….goodbye feminine mystery_, she thought to herself.

As she passed another company marked 'D', she heard the usual catcalls and whistles, hushed instantly by their NCO's. Grace's backside was practically sparking from all the attention it was getting – she could feel it. She immediately figured no one knew but Sink and Sobel that there was a woman on her way to the 101st. _Starting from square one was never a truer statement; I can only hope I'm not too much of an outcast here_.

Tab and the rest of the Easy men eyed her closely – her tall 5'8'' frame, long auburn hair, and pale features. Zeroing in on her face, he saw determination - his brain couldn't help but tell him she was beautiful too. This woman, this _very attractive_ woman has seen action? And she's sharing barracks with us? Tab swallowed thickly and cast a glance at the other guys, they all mirrored what he must have looked like: shocked.

"Would ya take a look at _that_", Joe drawled out, smirking at Bill and Don who looked pleased as well.

"_That_, boys, happens to be our newest addition and First Sergeant", Lipton reminded them, shaking his head.

"Look at that chest candy, huh?" George said elbowing Tab.

"Christ George, really?" Skip said over Tab's shoulder.

"Means her decorations Sherlock", Bill said distractedly, "I'll be the first to say it out loud – First Sergeant Doll-Face is a beauty".

Tab found himself nodding in agreement with the rest of the men around him. As she neared closer, he could see a faint frown on the Sergeant's very feminine face. He wondered if she was used to this kind of welcoming. She slowed to a stop in front of them, in front of their barracks and gave them all a quick once-over. Tab found his eyes travelling down to the cinched waist of her Dress Greens, he found the color complimented her hair and skin.

"Gracie?" Next to Tab, Nixon whispered.

"Lieutenant?" Tab said, turning to him.

Not answering, Nixon walked the few feet to their newest member, "Gracie." He stated, his voice low and unbelieving.

Tab looked over at George who looked back at him and muttered, "what the fuck?"

Joe groaned softly, "Oh don't tell me that's his girl".

Bill nudged him softly, "Lt. Nixon's already married, Joe". Joe smiled at this, comforted.

Grace turned towards the voice who called her 'Gracie'. No one's called her that since…

Her eyes adjusted to the Georgia sun and she focused on a handsome face with dark, dark hair, "Lew?"

Lew, her old friend came to her side, "Gracie, is that really you?"

Grace felt herself chuckle a bit, "yeah it's me. Jesus, what are the chances?" She then felt herself pulled into a crushing hug. She stiffened at once, not wishing her CO walk in this moment, but she smiled anyway; it had been since the spring of 1940 that she'd spoken to Lew.

Lewis let her go, his dark eyes wide, his voice low and unbelieving, "what in God's name are you doing here, Gracie?"

Grace smirked slightly, noticing the surrounding men's sudden silence to hear what she had to say, "Oh Lew, let's not bring God into _this _just yet". She joked lightly and Lew frowned at her, "I've just been assigned to Easy".

Lew shook his head, "That doesn't make any sense – last I heard you were in London volunteering for the nurses".

Grace cringed at this, now that she was alone and without family, she didn't have any reason to keep anyone else in loop with her life.

She looked up at her older brother's long time friend, "That was in '40 – everything changed Lew."

Before Nixon could decipher her vague answer, he was interrupted, "First Sergeant Grant?" Lieutenant Richard Winters walked up to them.

Grace looked over to her right and saw a tall man with red hair take one look at Lew and then at her, "Sir, First Sergeant Grant reporting". She saluted him gracefully.

"I just heard about your transfer here, Sergeant. Welcome to the finest company the 101st has to offer. You'll be a wonderful addition." Winters said, a small friendly smile on his face. Grace let out a breath she didn't know she was holding; this man had kind eyes, they didn't hold the hatred she'd seen before. "I suggest you run into barracks and get in your PT's, we'll be running Currahee in five".

As Grace was about to nod and salute, a hard voice cut through, "Lieutenant Winters, this new member will NOT put on PT gear". The company saluted the approaching dark-haired man immediately – Grace followed suit; _this must be Captain Sobel_.

Ignoring the salutes of her and the men, Sobel sauntered up to Grace, looking her up and down, an odd expression on his face. Grace could only place it as 'put-out' or annoyed. Holding her salute along with the rest of the men, she looked straight ahead of her, out at the mountain they were about to run.

Captain Sobel lazily saluted them all, "_First Sergeant_ Grant."

The pause he provided told her she should answer him back, "Sir, yes sir."

Sobel smirked, "You want to play soldier?" She heard him breathing hard, looking down at her, "you will don your BDU's and full gear for Currahee today", he said conversationally. He strode away quickly before she could answer him. "Lieutenant Winters, Easy will be at the base of Currahee in five!", Sobel yelled over his shoulder.

"Jesus Christ", George Luz breathed to the men beside him.

Malarkey turned to Bill and Joe, "Full fucking gear? We haven't even done _full_ gear."

"What the fuck is Sobel thinking?" Bill said, spitting on the ground, already feeling protective of the mysterious woman before them.

Tab shook in head, looking on.

Before Lew could say anything more, Grace nodded at Winters who nodded back and she took off inside the vacant barracks. She saw her footlocker with her name on it pushed at the end of the last bed on the left side of the barracks. Looking behind her, making sure she was alone, she reached for her BDU's and began throwing off the wool dress greens.

"Nix?" Dick turned slightly to his friend. He'd seen Lew hug their new Sergeant – he obviously knows her from home, _somewhere other than here_.

"Family friend, Dick", Lew, still in shock, responded. "I'm good friends with her brother Chuck. Their father was a doctor – they were in London after Chuck volunteered for the RAF in '39. I haven't seen her or heard from any of them since they left the states in the spring of '40".

All Dick could do was nod at Lew. He watched Sobel walking towards Currahee with heavy feet; he knew right away that First Sergeant Grace Grant had one long, uphill battle ahead of her. The men of Easy were fiercely protective, and with all of them together they'd all get through this.

Getting her backpack on with some difficulty because of her aching shoulder, Grace picked up her weapon and jogged outside. She was just in time, the rest of the men were beginning to walk to the mountain. There was a small group outside that was waiting for her.

"Sergeant Grant", Grace looked at a man with sandy brown hair that looked at her curiously, "I'm Sergeant Carwood Lipton". He briskly saluted her.

She quickly saluted him back then offered her hand to his to shake, "We're not in front of the brass Sergeant Lipton, I'm Grace Grant".

He smiled warmly and nodded, "Carwood Lipton".

"Or Lip, _if_ he likes you", Grace looked over to a man with big brown eyes and an amusing smirk, "If we're doing introductions the old fashioned way, I'm George Luz".

Grace shook his hand, smirking back "George this is Grace Grant", Lipton said.

"Grace – can I call you Grace?" George asked.

"As long as you're not on my shit list, George, you can always call me Grace", she responded, testing the waters with her language and humor. To her delight, then men around her laughed jovially while they were walking to Currahee.

George grinned, "On behalf of the boys, I'd like to welcome you to Easy. Don't let the 'Easy' fool you – we can be a hard nut to crack".

"Well then we've already got something in common, don't we George?" Grace laughed.

"I'm Bill Guarnere, Grace. This here is Joe Liebgott, Floyd Talbert – we call him Tab, Skip Muck, Don Malarkey, and Frank Perconte." The man with the accent and the strong jaw and probing eyes pointed out the rest of the men walking with her and Lip.

"South Philly?" She said simply.

A wide smile broke his masculine face, "Yeah! That obvious?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" She countered and he grinned.

"Are you?" The man called 'Skip', with a friendly faced asked.

Grace smiled, "I was born in Dublin Ireland from Irish parents, what do you think?"

"That means no dice for you Lieb", she heard the dark featured man, Perconte, say to Joe – the one with the mischievous eyes.

"I might be able to look past it", she heard him say back, chuckling.

"You're Irish, huh?" A red-haired man with long eye lashes asked – _Malarkey_, she said to herself. She smiled and nodded. "Me too!", he said.

She laughed, "Well 'Slainte', then". She smiled at his face, "Means 'cheers' in Gaelic".

"Sergeant, can I lighten your load for you til we get to the mountain?" A soft voice came behind her. She turned, surprised someone would offer, and saw a man with tanned skin and light brown hair. His wide eyes were searching hers and miraculously, she felt her cheeks burn slightly in embarrassment.

"Floyd Talbert otherwise known as Tab, correct?" He smirked and nodded, "I appreciate it Tab, but I can do it". She covered up her pride with nonchalance and smiled. She _could_ do it, although she was touched he offered, her pride wouldn't let her present a vulnerability. She found his eyes still on her, she bit her lip lightly and smiled, turned away and kept walking.

"Aw, you're so sweet Taaaaaab", she heard George whisper to Floyd behind her.

"TWENTY-SIX MINUTES MIGHT BE GOOD FOR DOG COMPANY BUT IT IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR EASY!" Captain Sobel yelled at the running soldiers from the top of Currahee, stopwatch in hand.

Grace was breathing hard through her nose, gun swinging right and left with her gait. She could feel warmth pooling under the left strap of her backpack – she'd bled through her bandage.

Running up to the plague at the top of the hill, Lew ran up beside her, "you ok there Gracie?" He breathed out, panting. She nodded her head, attempting a smile at him.

The whole three miles up the mountain, Grace was in pain; not from the actual run, but from her stupid shoulder. The whole of Easy had kept together in a pack, she could feel the stares of the men the whole way. She'd run up next to a man who introduced himself as Bull right after Sobel had ducked into the trees, taking a short-cut no doubt. She had also met another man with bright blue eyes named Webster – he eyed her gear just like Tab had.

The men who'd established themselves with Grace before the run kept close to her. Easy had not yet run Currahee in _full_ gear before and they were keeping a close eye on her. With Lt. Nixon obviously knowing Grace from back home, they'd taken her in as well and the close group had to stop themselves from grabbing her gear and running with it themselves. Apart from women being scarce at camp in general, _this_ woman wore the same outfit they did along with the red cross on her left arm– she had been accepted into the airborne; it didn't take a genius to figure out she was something to be protected.

Grace slapped the plaque like Lew did, Sobel directly to her right, staring at her hard.

The three miles down went faster than up and by the end, Grace was relieved it was over. She was thinking about who to ask where the infirmary was to re-dress her shoulder; the warmth had spread down her side. Standing in formation rigidly in front of Sobel's approaching figure, she swept her eyes over the men and caught Bill's eye, he winked at her quickly.

Instantly locking onto Grace, Sobel began speaking, "I expect your time up and back Currahee to improve, Easy company".

"Sir, yes sir", the company parroted back.

Sobel's eyes still on Grace, he stood before her, "Sergeant Grant, I expected someone who has had combat experience to have performed better. Perhaps you can prove your worth to this company after that display on the mountain." He paused, and Grace could feel her blood beginning to boil over. She wasn't angry, she was disappointed that this was happening again. "The rest of you are dismissed, Lieutenant Winters and Lieutenant Nixon, Colonel Sink requested to see you. Sergeant Grant – training course in fifteen, as you are". The men saluted Sobel, he returned it and took off.

Grace turned to Lew, who looked murderously after Sobel's retreating form. She caught his eye and smiled softly, nodding. He nodded back with Winters and the two of them stalked off, huddled together. Grace found herself thinking Winters was good for Lew…he'll need him after she tells him about her father and Chuck.

"Grace?" She turned to the voice – Bill, George, Tab, Joe, and Don stood looking at her.

"Hey Bill. One of you guys mind helping me with my backpack real quick?" She asked lightly. Tab and George were on her first, either man taking a strap. She crinkled her nose and sucked in a breath as Tab lifted it off her left side. She tucked her chin in, holding in a gasp.

"Holy shit, Grace – you're bleeding", Malarkey said, a bit too loudly.

"What happened there – nothing happened on the mountain", Joe asked, his voice thick with concern.

"Bled through; looks worse than it really is, I'm sure", Grace replied.

"Bled through? What happened?" Bill demanded.

Grace breathed out evenly, not looking forward to the training course she has to face with Sobel, "I'm nursing a bullet wound I got last week in North Africa".

Tab fingered her medic badge, "but you're a medic, they can't shoot at you".

She looked at him, holding his eyes, "It wasn't on at the time", she paused then thought whether or not to get into it, but decided to give them something more, "and it doesn't help when you're firing back at them". They all looked at her, obvious questions in their eyes but she shrugged them off, "Want to help me get this back on? I gatta meet Sobel at the course".

"You probably shouldn't run it with that shoulder of yours", George said from her right as she cringed. He tried sliding it up her arms as softly as he could, he looked up and could see the same concentration on Tab's face.

She knew she'd given up too much then, need to stomp on the questions now, "where's the fun in that?" She smiled wryly, her eyes hardened over. _Put the wall up, no questions yet_.

"You better see a medic right after", Bill said, his voice without jest.

Grace nodded, "We'll see you at the mess hall", Tab said next to her.

She smiled, "save me a seat will ya?"

They nodded their heads as they watched her run off towards the training course and Sobel, all worried about what indecent things he'll say without them present.

**Review pretty please! I have an entire amazing story planned out and I'd love to her what you have to say so far!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

A BIG thank you to '**hodhod2011danger**' , '**Rose2621'** and '**caseylu**' for adding me to their alerts!

A BIG, BIG, BIG thank you to '**caseylu**' for the FIRST review! You made my day.

Please keep reading everybody and leave a review!

"Who the HELL do you think YOU are coming here, Grant?" She grunted softly, her knees bobbing up and down, weaving through the tires on the ground.

"You WILL most certainly fail, Sergeant, and WHEN you do – I'll make sure no little women enter the paratroopers again!" She rolled onto her knees and onto her stomach, dodging the barbed wire.

"Who the fuck thought to name YOU, of all people - SERGEANT? You are SHIT, you are NOTHING! I want to know who you fucked to get here!" She ignored the wet throbbing coming from her left shoulder; the straps of her pack were digging into her wound unforgivably.

"You are NOT worth this trouble, Grant. I will NOT have you getting any Easy men killed!" Grace bit her lip hard from gasping in pain as she reached above her and lifted herself over the big wooden wall of the training course. Sobel had not let up in half an hour – and this was the _second_ time she was running the course this evening. She knew she was missing chow too; she thought of Tab who was supposed to be saving her a seat.

Captain Sobel looked down at his stopwatch. _She's making it under time by three minutes_. He'd demanded she run the course a second time after she'd finished it five minutes under time before.

Sobel stalked the line of the course, following Grant's actions, "You want to fight for your country? You better PROVE IT!"

Grace could feel his cold stare at her from her left. She was crawling through mud, under more barbed wire; the end was near now. On one hand, she was utterly frustrated and insulted – did this man not know her credentials of her time in with the British? _He probably doesn't care_. And on the other hand, this was a walk in the fucking park – no bullets were flying by her head, and no agonizing screams for 'medic' could be heard.

She rolled over, gasping slightly from the digging in her shoulder and sprang up – she ran at a sprint, her gun weighing her down more now than ever, and crossed a white line in the dirt twenty yards later. _Done_, she breathed in relief. She snapped to attention immediately, facing the camp. Grace stole a glance at her left shoulder and could see dark red on top – _it bled through very, very badly_, she thought. She could see Sobel out in her periphery looking at his stopwatch again. The Captain looked up and began stalking her way; her eyes snapped forward. The camp looked empty – everyone being at the mess hall – but Grace's eyes fell on a lone figure, leaning up against the Dog company barracks. Whoever it was, they were facing her way and watching.

"The second time you fell behind by two minutes. I expect more out of my paratroopers, Sergeant."

"Sir, yes sir", Grace's replied, her voice thick and raspy with fatigue, trying to mask her pain. She kept her eyes trained on the man in camp, he held her gaze as well, unrelenting– like he knew she needed it. Looking at him was the only thing keeping her from scowling at her captain.

Sobel looked down at her, his lips in a rigid line, his eyes hard and cold. He looked at her left shoulder quickly, but Grace caught his eyes flicker to her stained uniform. He walked and stood behind her left side, "Get yourself cleaned up right away. You will shower at night, away from the men – for _obvious_ reasons; they shower in the mornings. This will require you to take half your mealtime to do so. Understand?"

"Yes sir". She bit the inside of her cheek in anger and kept her eyes on the still form against D company's barracks.

"Good. Dismissed", Sobel didn't give her an opportunity to salute; he marched past her and purposefully shoved her left arm as he did. Her face scrunched up as her left side exploded in pain. She could see stars as she shut her eyes tight, her hands shaking. Not only did she bleed through her bandage, she was sure by the pain and the amount of blood, her stitches had ripped too.

She bowed her head slightly, breathing hard through her nose; gathering her thoughts and nerves. _Okay – barracks for new OD's first, then showers, then medics – food will have to wait until tomorrow morning_. Slinging her gun over her right shoulder, she took off towards the barracks; her eyes directly searched for the man, he was still there.

She kept her eyes on him as his features came into focus, as she got closer; he stared right back the entire time. His stare was unwavering as she neared; Grace continued her march as her eyes drank him in.

Lieutenant Ronald Speirs had finished dinner early, _again_. Standing up from the table of his other dog company men, he looked intently over at Easy company. Since their new First Sergeant had made her appearance a few hours ago, none of the boys in Toccoa could shut up about it. Ron eyed the table of Easy men, not seeing any female figure among them. What he did notice was an empty spot next to one of them, and a scowl on all of their faces.

Ron began walking away from his table, nodding back at the men who acknowledged his departure. He had a long day tomorrow of drills to do with his platoon and he intended to make sure his was the best of his company. His thoughts drifted right back to the woman who had been placed in the company he so admired. Ron often wondered why he wasn't put in Easy himself; being a determined young man, he intended to get into Easy before the war was over – one way or another.

Garrison cap tilted the right way on his head, he strode fluidly over to his barracks. Before he walked into the door, he heard yelling coming across the field from the training course. He couldn't make out any words, but he observed Captain Sobel yelling at a crawling figure in full gear and weapon on the ground. The figure rolled over and stood up quickly; that's when Ron noticed the smaller, feminine frame of the soldier running fast through the course _none_ of the camp had yet to accomplish in full gear.

_That's the new First Sergeant_?

_Impressive_, was the first thought that fired through his mind. His hazel green eyes studied the Sergeant's elegant, flowing movements and gait through the course with appreciation. He had heard earlier from his NCO's that she had been overseas, had seen action. She probably had quite the story to tell.

The Sergeant ran to the finish line and stood at attention, facing the camp. Ron could just barely make out her face, her pale features and dark hair tied behind her neck. He was scrutinizing her rigid posture when Captain Sobel, who Ron knew had a bad reputation around Toccoa, marched up to her side – barking in her ear. Ron's eyes focused in on her face – _do not let that prick get to you_. He could see her eyes on his, Ron held her gaze, breathing evenly.

Sobel hit her shoulder as he marched past, coming back to the camp. Ron frowned as he saw her go stiff, then bow her head. He turned his gaze to Sobel, who was walking towards HQ. Snapping his eyes back to the figure of the Sergeant, he watched as her eyes found his again – hanging on as if it were a life-line, she continued her stare and walked towards the barracks.

Ron took her appearance in quickly as she strode towards Easy's barracks – her slightly limping posture, she was curled into her left side, and her muddy BDU's. He lifted his eyes back to hers, holding them there. As she neared him, nearly daring him to look away, his brain caught up with his vision – _she is beautiful_. Ron swallowed thickly and set his jaw, a passive expression clouding his features. He was not about to get caught looking like a chump at this woman; he was sure she'd seen that over and over again since she'd stepped foot in Georgia – hell, since she'd joined the army.

He noticed her pale face was marred with light smudges of dirt, her auburn curls slowly making their way out of her bun from under her helmet. Lighting two cigarettes, he pushed himself away from the wall of the barracks and stood in front of her, her dark hazel, depthless eyes searching his with caution.

Ron took a drag of the cigarettes and held one out to her, "Cigarette?"

Grace's eyes snapped down to the offer in his hand, catching the silver bar on his collar on their way down, "Thank you Lieutenant", she said, her fingers gently grazing his as he passed her the lit joy-in-a-stick.

Grace might have been many things in that moment – tired, fatigued, frustrated, hungry, in pain – but one thing she _wasn't _was blind. The lieutenant standing before her was not only the visual epitome of a soldier, but he was _handsome as sin_. She kept her eyes on his, not wanting to be the first one to look away, as she slowly brought the cigarette to her lips and took a long drag. The last time she'd had one was in North Africa, right after she'd been shot and found out she was getting discharged. The lieutenant's olive-green eyes bored into hers – she wrapped her lips around the cigarette again, and thinking that he had had it in his mouth too, she closed her eyes. _What on earth am I thinking_?

Mentally shaking her head, she opened her eyes to his – still there.

"You looked like you could use it", Ron remarked. His body was buzzing – he couldn't lie to himself, she was such a curious, mysterious woman – a walking contradiction; angelic yet haggard and hard – he was captivated. He watched as the smoke they each exhaled mingled, tangled together into itself in the void between them.

Grace squared her shoulders slightly, "First Sergeant Grace Grant, Easy Company".

Ron nodded his head once, "First Lieutenant Ronald Speirs, Dog Company".

They didn't salute each other, they just held each other's stare.

"Can you point me in the direction of the showers?" Grace asked, her cheeks warm.

The Lieutenant nodded, "By the mess hall and the infirmary". Grace nodded her thanks and began to turn away, keeping her shoulder from his view. "First Sergeant Grant", he called to her with his deep voice, "word to the wise – Sobel is easily intimidated, the better you are the harder he is".

Grace blew down at the cigarette in her fingers, thinking – then feeling bold, she looked back up at the attractive lieutenant, "are you easily intimidated Lieutenant Speirs?" Hardly believing her nerve, she held his eyes again, enjoying the way her voice said his name.

He smirked darkly at her, appreciating her bravado, "Not at all Sergeant Grant". He nodded again at her, swaggering away into the soldiers walking back from dinner.

Dragging herself away from his retreating form, she staggered over to her barracks. The sun was close to setting as she made her way in through the doorframe. There were some men in the front, they nodded at her carefully, their eyes raking up and down her dirty BDU's. She spotted her new friends gathered around her bunk. _What the hell_?

"Gracie", Nixon's anxious voice floated to her. Out of the small group, she saw him gently push his way out and down the aisle towards her. "You look like hell", he stated, his eyes hunting her face.

"Gee thanks Lew, you sure know how to speak to a lady", she said, "why are you guys breathing all over my bunk?"

She began to make her way over when Lew caught her left arm, Grace let out a sudden gasp, the cigarette falling from her lips.

"Grace?" Malarkey turned at the sound. Bill, Joe, George, Tab, Lip, and Winters all looking immediately her way.

"What happened?" Lew said to Grace, his tone low.

"You didn't go to the infirmary yet?" Bill asked her.

Lew's face snapped back to her and she spoke, "I was, but I was ordered to hit the showers first, I was coming here to grab my OD's when I saw you guys over my bunk. What's going on?"

Bull and Webster, who were with another man Grace recognized as Johnny Martin from their run earlier, stepped aside from her bunk and Grace shook her head in disgust. Her footlocker was wide open and a few choice contents had been dumped onto her bunk. Her bras were proudly splayed out, along with garters, her nylons. She pulled out of Lewis' grasp with a small grunt and walked stiffly to her bed. She could feel the worried stares at her as her face grew hot. She carefully picked up her things and threw them back into the footlocker, bit by bit.

"We would'a cleaned up for you Gracie, but you know…" Joe started as Grace looked up at him. She noticed he'd used the little name Lew called her, her solid wall softened at his casual demeanor. She hid a smirk as she noticed his ears were pink from embarrassment.

"We decided we should at least buy you a drink before we went ahead and got acquainted with your…. under-things", George said, his big eyes searching hers. She smirked at him and he smiled back.

"Let me help you with this", Tab once again came quietly to her side and grabbed the now stained strap of her backpack. He nodded at Nixon who strode forward and grabbed the other side. They pulled it off her swiftly.

"Thank you", Grace whispered, cringing again at the friction. Sobel or one of his assistants had to have been the culprits of this – no doubt trying to find something they could consider contraband. With everything back in the footlocker, she sat down on the edge of her bed and peeked over at her shoulder and winced.

"That's a heck of a lot of blood, Grace, what happened?" Winters asked her. The other men looked at her. Joe, Bill, Tab, and George all looked at her expectantly, already knowing.

"I took a bullet through the shoulder last week before I shipped out, I think it reopened the second time I did the training course".

"The second time?" Lew asked.

"Captain Sobel ordered you to run it twice?" Winters asked calmly, throwing a glance at Nixon.

"Yes sir, he did." Grace replied, not an ounce of contempt in her voice. _I've had worse_. That was becoming a mantra. The men around her grew rigid at her admission, jaws tense and glaring at one another, quietly murmuring.

Winters looked pensive and cold as he turned to Lipton, "Lip, would you go and grab a medic? We'll get you cleaned up, Grace." He nodded at her, a warmth in his eyes as he left the side of her bed.

Lewis came and sat next to Grace, "I have to ask because I'm practically family – what do your father and Chuck think about you doing all this?"

Balling her fists so she could feel her nails dig into palms, she turned to the boy she'd once had a crush on growing up, "Lewis, there's something I need to tell you about my father and Chuck".

**I know, I know….a bit of a cliffy – but I wanted to get a chapter out to keep you all reading. The next chapter WILL be longer. I'll post it in a couple days after I finish it.**

**Thank you SO MUCH for reading!**

**PLEASE REVIEW and let me know what you're thinking so far!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Author Note: Apologies for posting a Chapter 3 last night…..it was the WRONG file. This is the right chapter! Thank you for your understanding! **

A BIG, GIANT thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorite-ed, alerted to this story!

Especially to: **caseylu**, **UrWorstNightmare97**, **cblols**, and **Rose2621**

"Something you need to tell me?" Lewis whispered, searching Grace's face. "Gracie…?"

His unspoken question floated in the air between them and settled itself heavily on top of her shoulders. In North Africa, as a field medic, she had told many men about their friends' deaths. She had been the last person they had seen, spoken to; she'd held their hands, stroked their hair as they passed. Some went quietly, peacefully even – others went screaming in pain, anxiety, calling out for their mothers, their wives, their lovers. Grace played whatever part was required of her in those minutes. Although she kept her cool and collected demeanor, the tiniest fraction of her heart flickered out with that last breath, the last flicker of their eyes.

Telling _this_ news to _this_ person about _her _family, Grace could reach out and touch her nervousness, her sadness. She hadn't allowed herself to properly grieve yet after…she fought her way out to the front lines immediately after it all happened and kept herself preoccupied. She still had a job to do here, _her_ war was never over; but telling Lewis marks the first time she'll speak the words out loud.

"You should wait until a medic can come and treat you", Lewis said, his voice low.

"No, I'm ok, it's fine", she tried to smirk but it turned into a small grimace, "I've had worse".

Grace noticed the barracks had cleared out of men she hadn't come to know yet; the ones she had were loitering by some of their bunks – dealing out cards. Looking over to them she saw Tab looking at her intently. He gently nodded his head, blinking slowly, and she nodded back. Grace found the murmur of their banter helped keep her grounded.

She grabbed Lewis' hand with hers, holding it between them and looked at him. She allowed herself to appreciate his face – the face she'd known since she was a child. His dark eyes searched hers and she noticed he was holding his breath. "We left New York for London in May of 1940. Chuck was in training with the RAF and father and me went to the airfield's hospital to help with anything we could. Father being who he was, was in charge in no time. I was his number two – he was proud." Grace smiled remembering her father telling the other doctors and nurses her background and education in the medical field, "In July, the German Luftwaffe began bombing and targeting coastal air fields, ships in the channel. My father and I were moved out there to help with wounded pilots and personnel." Lewis' eyes began to change – she knew he could see what was coming. "Chuck stayed at the airfields inland. One morning in late August, the hospital father and I were stationed at was hit. I was in the intake wing and he was back in surgery." Grace kept her eyes trained on Lewis' face, feeling like she was treading water wearing one hundred pounds, "the building was shaking so violently, me and the nurses were trying to evacuate as many men as we could, but…" She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at the wall – she could still hear the screams of the men who weren't able to walk by themselves, of those who were so helpless that she and the other nurses couldn't reach because of rubble; those who still weighed on her conscious because _she_ was in charge and had to leave them behind as the walls caved in around them.

"Gracie", Lewis' voice snapped her out of her flashback.

She locked onto his eyes and got the rest of it out – _it's like a report, like the one you wrote after it was over; sterile and unemotional_, "Father had been in the wing that took the direct hit. The week following, Chuck had been up fighting the Krauts, they shot him down." Lew closed his eyes and turned away. Grace was momentarily astounded that she had been able to say it without a shake in her voice.

"Why didn't you come home? You're alone now – you would've had a place with my parents", Lewis asked her – his eyes focused on the back wall, his jaw tense.

"I wasn't finished with the job I had to do, it's that simple. Father and Chuck were taken out of the fight, but I'm picking up where they left off – I belong here. Colonel Sink and the brass agree with me". Grace whispered with conviction. She could understand where Lewis was coming from, but she had seen more action than any man in her company. She knew what they would all eventually being jumping into; she needed to save as many of them as she could. Her bitterness dissolved looking at Lew who was looking down at her shoulder. She stroked his hand with hers, "I'm so sorry Lew".

He looked up, his jaw set, "I'm sure Chuck would have loved to see my reaction to seeing you today." They smirked softly at one another, either knowing how much of a prankster Chuck was, Lew took on a hard edge in his eyes and voice, "Well I'm picking up where Chuck left off – you're my sister now more than ever before", he whispered fiercely. "Now let's get this dirty ass shirt off your back before Roe gets here".

Grace nodded tersely, "Grace", Lipton's voice cut through the moment gently and Grace stood up automatically.

"Lip", Lipton was standing with a medic near the other men who had quieted down during her and Lewis' exchange but were now back to their card game and chatting.

"Speak of the devil", Lewis muttered, helping Grace stand up as she began to unbutton her BDU shirt.

"This is one of our two medics for Easy – Eugene Roe", Lipton gestured to the pensive looking young man at his side. Grace smiled at him and he returned it slowly. "Doc, this is Sergeant Grace Grant".

Eugene approached Grace, "Sergeant, I heard you have a shoulder I need to take a look at".

"Doc, the sergeant here don't like to be called 'sergeant', call her Gracie like the rest of us, huh?" Bill said looking at Grace over his cards and winking.

Smiling at Roe, Grace addressed him, "Doc, I took a bullet through the left shoulder last week and I believe my stitches have ripped and it's bleed through pretty bad."

"Here", Lewis murmured behind her, slipping off her shirt off her shoulders. Grace was thankful, her shoulder was sore and she could feel it tightening up. "Shit Gracie", Lew hissed a curse as he tossed her shirt onto the floor.

Grace looked over to her left shoulder, grimacing. Dark red blood was soaked through her undershirt, a confirmation that her stitches had indeed snapped.

"Fucking hell", Joe said his eyes staring at her shoulder. Malarkey, Tab, Bill, George and Muck were all staring her down as well, looking at her like she had three heads.

It was at that moment Grace had to tell herself these men had never seen action yet. They knew what they were getting themselves into, they'd probably seen men get injured while training – but her wound was a physical reminder of the real war being fought at this moment. Grace remembered how lucky she'd felt to be alive after she had received her wound that night – she remembered how her fellow medic had ripped off her shirts without any thought to her privacy and pressed down on her shoulder, stopping the blood, saving her life. She was dirty, sweaty, bloody, and all she was in were her pants and her bra – and no soldier cared. She had transformed over time from woman into a soldier. When they went to the pubs, she bought her own drinks, was never asked to dance – she'd lost any of her sexuality in their eyes. While that was a painful thing to loose, it helped in those moments where she was needed as a medic – and it helped when she needed treatment.

She wondered if that would happen here, eventually. Grace's heart clenched at the thought and her mind flashed a quick image of the lieutenant with those olive green eyes she'd spoken to earlier. She suddenly had an intense craving for a cigarette.

"Ok then, let's take a look", Roe made his way over, and Grace immediately thought of the logistics of a shoulder wound. Would he cut her shirt up at the top so he could see her shoulder, or would she just take off her shirt? It's just a bra, right? Grace's face felt flushed. The other men seemed to be thinking the same thing – they were all casting long, lingering glances her way. Inwardly, Grace rolled her eyes – on the battlefield, she wouldn't have batted an eyelash at ripping off her shirt to treat a wound of hers or anyone else's, _and when did social standards creep their way back into my brain_?

Tab felt his jaw drop as he took Grace's form in. He was still getting used to the fact that she was _shot_ by Germans. That her wound was evidence of an enemy they would all be fighting sooner or later. His eyes raking over Grace's face, he shook his head, anger still there that Sobel made her run that course twice in full gear with an injured shoulder. He watched as Grace gingerly sat on the edge of her bed, fiddling with her undershirt.

A hand of cards was thrown down at him; he looked down at his cards George dealt him – _two pair_.

"Fuck", George cursed from Tab's right. George Luz couldn't believe what he was seeing – not only was this woman and their new First Sergeant wounded from a Kraut bullet, but that determined look in her eyes and the way her arms were crossed at her hips and her hands gripping the hem of her undershirt, he knew what was coming next.

"I'm guessing this way will be easiest for you, Doc Roe?" Grace said softly.

"Yeah, I reckon it would be the best – if you want, I could -."

"No, I don't want to disrupt anything, just want to get this over with", Grace interrupted the soft-spoken medic.

"I'll get the men out of here, Gracie – Jesus". Lewis looked at her attentively.

"Honestly Lew, why bother?" Grace whispered.

"Your decency", Grace quirked an eyebrow and he pointed to himself, "Big brother, remember?" He walked forward, "Alright boys, take this game outside, huh?"

Grace looked over to the men, who were doing a terrible job pretending to play poker. Her eyes locked with Bill's.

She smirked, "You should'a told me the game was strip poker, boys – I'm almost down a shirt and I don't even have a hand". The tension in the room lifted at once and the men laughed openly.

"We could change things up and deal you in doll face", Bill said, his eyebrows up.

"Out Guarnere", Lewis said, taking his cigarettes out of his pocket.

"I'm afraid you've all got an unfair advantage on me now – maybe next time, Bill – rain-check", Grace said grinning and ignoring Lewis' dark gaze on her.

"Is that a promise?" Malarkey said, elbowing Muck.

"I thought you said you're a _good_ and _Catholic_ girl, Gracie", Muck said smiling, blowing smoke at his cards.

Grace smiled at the name they were all using now, "I'm _both_ of those Muck – but I never said I was both in the same sentence", she dragged suggestively, playing along.

George threw his head back, laughing, "She's giving us a run for our money boys, 'aint she Tab?"

Tab felt his cheeks turn warm as Grace's dark eyes fell onto him, "yeah George, she certainly is". He looked back at Grace – her eyes on him, she smiled softly, almost apologetically and he did the same, his eyes lingered on her as Doc Roe said something to her, causing her to look away.

"Jesus", he heard to his right from George. The conversation had picked up again, and George was discreetly leering at Tab – obviously having noticed his expression towards Grace. Playing it off, Tab rolled his eyes at George and picked up the rest of his cards and his lighter.

Grace watched as the boys exited the barracks. Lew nodded to her then looked to Eugene.

"You tell me when she's all done, I'll be outside", he said. Grace saw his hand reach blindly to his pocket to retrieve his flask.

"Will do Lieutenant", Roe said back to him. When he left, he looked at Grace.

Grace held her breath for the discomfort of moving her arms above her head and lifted her shirt up. The friction caused her hair to tumble out of the bun it was twisted into, spilling out. She pulled her hair over her right shoulder and sat on the edge of her bed, her right leg crossed under her left, facing the door; she could hear the men right outside.

She felt the bed sink softly with Roe's weight, "I'm going to have to move this strap", he whispered. She nodded and he slid her left bra strap down over her shoulder. "You can call me Gene, by the way Grace".

She smirked, her boldness still in full-effect, "I better be able to - after how intimate we're getting, Gene. I do not do this with just anybody". He laughed behind her, she wrinkled her nose as she felt him begin to clean her shoulder, "Where are you from Gene?"

"Louisiana, half Cajun", he said. She nodded, smiling.

A little while later, Gene patted Grace on the back, "All done Grace. You know what I'm gonna say next, don't ya?"

Grace nodded, "Keep it dry, dress it when you can, and try to take it easy. I got it down pat, Gene". Grace had zoned out during Gene's careful treatment of her shoulder, the comfortable masculine murmurs of the boys outside keeping her awake but calm. She let her head drop to one side, then the other, her neck stiff from sitting in one position for so long.

Gene nodded at her, "Nice meeting you Sergeant, I'm sure I'll be seeing you a lot since you're a medic too".

"That you will, Gene. Thanks again my shoulder feels as good as new", Grace nodded her thanks and Gene walked out, bidding good night to the other men outside who were yelling at Don who had once again won the round. Grace was impressed with the tranquil Cajun medic. He would be an important asset in the field. Grace stood up, going to her footlocker for her OD's.

She gingerly slipped a new undershirt on and with her OD's and a towel under her right arm, she made her way to the front doors.

"All better then?" Lewis asked, standing in the doorway. He noticed the bundle she was holding, "where are you going?"

"Showers, I have to take them at night – Captain Sobel's orders" She responded.

Lewis paused, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Alright, I'll take you there – don't want you starting a riot on your first day. Barracks are all yours boys". Nixon called out as they walked outside. They waved at Grace and she nodded back.

"Healed up now Gracie?" Tab asked and George sniggered.

"All better Tab, thanks", she said walking away with Lewis.

"Interesting day, eh boys?" Malarkey quipped, earning a few whistles and chuckles.

Grace's eventful first day at Camp Toccoa proved to be somewhat of an omen. The weeks and months following, for the entire summer – Grace was ordered to run Currahee with _at least_ her BDU's if not usually her full gear. She slapped that plaque at the top of the mountain with fervor every time, feeling Sobel's hateful eyes appraising her.

She had grown close to Tab after that first night. She considered him her best friend, she could trust him with anything. It was as if she shared something with every one of the men close to her. Muck and Grace discussed Catholicism to no end, George and Grace both had smart mouths that could dispel tension when needed, Bill and Grace – one being Italian, the other Irish – gave each other constant hell, Grace and Malarkey banded together as the official 'micks' of Easy, Joe and Grace had a mischievous streak that put' em all to shame. That summer, she felt the hardness that North Africa had left her with begin to soften and mold to who she was now becoming because of Easy and the unforgiving Georgian sun she was beginning to love.

As much as Toccoa and the men were changing her, she still was nursing wounds emotionally. However, to her delight, her frequent nightmares that woke her in the middle of the night were waning. As constant as the sun, Lt. Ronald Speirs made appearances both in her dreams and during the day when things got bad. During meals they would steal glances at each other, when she would make her way back from running Currahee, he would be there – leaning against the D-company barracks to offer her a cigarette. When D-Company ran it, Grace would wait for him with one too. That had become their unofficial ritual and she'd managed to keep it a secret. From the gossips in her barracks, that was a feat to be proud of.

Lewis had stuck to his word, being her official brother now. He even seemed to have recruited Lt. Winters; the two of them made sure her things were no longer tampered with after a few incidences and that she made it to and from the showers without problems. There was no special treatment, only constant supervision that there was _fair_ treatment for her as a fellow paratrooper, for her as a human being, as a medic. She was the object of a lot of attention – both wanted and unwanted. The core group of men who had gotten close to her – Tab, Bill, Joe, Malarkey, Lip, Muck, and George - had become her family, her sanctuary; and she to them. Any other men who decided to step over the line and harass her not only had to deal with her – her authority, reputation, and sharp tongue – they also had to deal with any Easy man who had caught wind of any foul play. Unfortunately, nothing could be done about Sobel's treatment of her. Grace never once spoke ill of him or complained – it wasn't her place as a First Sergeant; though the men did enough of that for her.

Sobel had gotten in the habit of revoking every weekend pass Grace had that summer. She spent her weekends mostly at the aid station, talking to Gene and the other medic Spina if they were there– at least once a month, the boys who had a weekend pass wouldn't go and they'd stay behind at the base with Grace, making their own party at the barracks. George, who had the best scrounging abilities, managed to find her a bottle of her favorite poison – Jameson Irish Whiskey. She would never indulge too much in case someone came back from the bars hurt, but she enjoyed it none-the-less.

Another habit Sobel had made was assigning Grace to frequent night guard duty. By late August, she had it for a couple hours a night, four times a week.

"Deal me out of this one Joe, I've got duty", Grace said, backing up away from the table in the mess hall and gathering her rifle. Colonel Sink wasn't kidding when he insinuated Grace would be a wild card for Easy. She was shooting at the ranges like a soldier and was going to start medical lectures soon. Guard duty was something new to her that she was still getting used to.

"Shit, again?" Tab said, elbowing her in the ribs, she swatted him back.

"Orders, right? What are ya gonna do?" She quipped.

"We've tried taking your shifts", Malarkey said.

"You what?" She asked, turning back to the table of men who were all throwing Malarkey glares now. "Malark?"

"Sobel won't let us, always denies our requests. Even Winters has been denied", Muck told Grace in a sober voice.

"I appreciate the effort boys, but…"

"We get it, we get it – gatta keep up pretenses, right Sarge?" Joe grinned at her.

"Something like that, yeah. See you guys later". They grunted their goodnights as she walked out.

Grace made her way to her post – a wooden fence at the edge of the field, facing Currahee. She didn't mind the night guard shift, it gave her a chance to study the stars – an interest she'd begun to share with David Webster. He had books with him on constellations and she would quiz herself at nights with the real blinking map above her.

There was another reason Grace didn't mind the night shift. And he was walking this way.

"Evening Sergeant Grant", he spoke, his deep voice like velvet.

"Evening Lieutenant Speirs", she said softly.

He stopped next to her, she could feel heat coming from his body and he leaned next to her on the wall. For the past month, Lt. Speirs had night guard duty with her a couple times a week. To Grace's well-concealed delight, he had recently been put on the same schedule as her. They rarely spoke at length – simply shared the day's events if anything.

After that first night she was in Toccoa, Ron had discovered through one of his NCO's that she had been shot in North Africa, and tore it open again after the course run with Sobel. Ron cursed himself from not realizing it – she had spoken to him right after, but then he remembered her stoic face – not one complaint or anything the whole time they were smoking, and his respect for her grew. Once she started doing night duty frequently, he changed his platoon's schedule and he went on duty when she did. At first, he made the excuse that he wanted to pick her brain, get to know her as a soldier; how the German's fought, how to be a better soldier himself. But once he was in her eye-line and she smiled at him in greeting, that plan left his mind. The first night he had had guard duty with her had been a week after her arrival. She was still nursing her wounded shoulder. He kept a hard, trained eye on her, making sure she was alright. His sudden intense feelings about her safety took him by complete surprise. He literally felt his blood boil at the thought of a German firing a shot at _her. _

"Where are you from?" He asked simply.

"New York city, but I was born in Ireland – moved here when I was eight", she said after a beat.

"That explains the tiny accent", he said, a smile in his voice.

"You heard that?" Grace turned to him and Ron nodded his head. She _did_ have a small lilt. Mostly it went unnoticed, but it showed itself nonetheless.

"I was born in Scotland, moved to Maine was I was four", his eyes dark from the night bore into hers.

She smiled bringing out a full Irish accent, "What a coincidence, Lieutenant".

He smiled back, adding in a small Scottish one, "Indeed, First Sergeant". She laughed softly.

Ron mentally kept his hands to himself – one at his side and the other to the strap of his gun. The more and more he was with her, the more he had to remind himself he could not touch her. It was at times like this though, her lovely face smiling up at his, he wondered how soft her lips were. He watched her every day, when he could. He tried observing her with an officer's eye – appraising her abilities and knowledge and experience; but the more he tried, his heart won out. Every day he grew more impressed with her. He'd noticed her with the men of Easy; always checking on them, always making sure they were alright.

Grace's hands wandered to her pocket, wanting a distraction – anything from keeping her from saying something stupid in his presence – she pulled her cigarettes out, "Cigarette?"

Ron smirked down at her, "always".

Grace smirked back and placed both to her lips like he had that first day. When she brought the lighter up to her face to light them, Grace missed the way Ron's eyes darkened watching her. She took a drag and pulled one from her lips, holding it out for Ron. He reached forward towards her hand, holding it between her first two fingers. He slowly slid his fingers up hers and took it, placing it to his lips, reveling in the sweetness of its taste from her lips – _this is as close as I'll get_.

Keeping her eyes trained to the ground, Grace fought herself from touching her right hand where he had caressed it with his. She bit her lip, fighting the shiver that was working its way up her spine, and slowly turned to her right, watching Ron with fascination as his lips elegantly exhaled the smoke out, sending it spiraling into the night sky.

**More to come tomorrow! R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

Another BIG thank you for everyone who is reading! Please keep doing so!

"Have you been blousing your trousers like a paratrooper?" Sobel wailed, standing over Frank Perconte.

"Sir, yes sir", Frank retorted back.

"Not good enough, pass revoked", Sobel replied dismissively. Grace stared forward at attention like the rest of Easy as their Captain made his way through them all revoking pass after pass. After tearing down Lip, Malarkey, and Liebgott, he stalked right over to Grace – Joe's bayonet in hand. "I will NOT take _this_ rusty piece shit to war, and I will NOT take _you_ to war in your condition. All weekend passes are revoked. We are running Currahee with Dog company. Sergeant Grant!"

"Sir, yes sir". She replied, staring intently at the back of Muck's head.

"Full gear", he said menacingly.

"Yes sir", Grace spat out.

Sobel paraded past them all, leaving them to change into their PT gear; well, everyone but Grace. She fought to keep her shoulders up after he was out of sight, clenching her teeth she struggled to keep her eyes trained away from all the men – she was getting sick of their sympathetic glances. Sobel hadn't let up on her – every time Easy ran anywhere, Grace was ordered to don full gear.

Lew squeezed her hand as he jogged by, she watched them all run down to the barracks – pushing each other inside. She was fully aware of Captain Sobel's intentions. This wasn't her first time around the block; around this "man's-war". She was not on the hunt for recognition – she believed women like her could make an impact, women who could handle it; but not every woman _can. _ Hell – not every man can handle this, she'd seen men fall to their knees, freeze up when the first bullet flew past their heads. Grace could handle the bullets, the blood, the real fight. What she was growing so tired of, was the mental fight for her simply to _be _there. She knew in her heart that Sobel was pushing her in hopes of her quitting. There's no way she'd ever give him the satisfaction. He was an insignificant particle in the big picture; no way in hell would someone like him force her to forsake her debt to her father and brother. In the next few weeks, they'd be making their jumps – nothing would keep her from earning those wings. For Grace and the men of Easy – that was the goal.

Noticing men running to her position with PT gear, she straightened up. Her keen eyes recognizing them as Dog company men, her eyes sought him out on their own. Fluidly jogging past, Ron nodded at her, his stare penetrating and tight, acknowledging her in her full gear. She ignored her body's impulse to turn and watch him jog past, she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed out through her nose.

"I bet you're sick and tired of full gear, eh Grace?" George trotted up to her, grimacing. "I fucking hate that he still does this to you".

Grace snorted and waved him off, "Tell me something I _don't_ know".

George considered for a moment, "Tab's sweet on you".

Grace turned on George, fixing him with a pointed glare, "Come again?"

"Jesus, you've got quite the stare – you keep that up Gracie, and you'll scare all the boys off", he rolled his eyes at her. Grace cocked her head slightly to the side and raised her eyebrows, exasperated, "Come on, like you've never noticed?"

"Does everybody think this?" She asked flatly.

"No, I think I'm the only love-sick guy around to see the true-blue signs a mile away….on second thought, I could just be projecting _my_ feelings onto Tab…." George trailed off suggestively.

"Very funny, Luz".

"Could you blame me?" He smirked at her, making her shake her head and laugh.

"Jesus, George", was all Grace could say. Her mind was working a mile-a-minute; deconstructing every conversation she'd had with her friend Tab, trying to see it. Either she was a clueless idiot, or he was a wonderful actor. "I've been out of the market so-to-say for a couple years…being that I was at war and all…..so I'm kinda rusty at this sorta game".

He simply smiled at her, looking pleased he'd thrown her a curve ball, "I can take you through the ropes, just remember to save me a dance when you actually have a weekend pass to burn, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah", she said, turning towards the Easy men who were making their way the mountain now.

She spotted Tab and curiously, her first instinct was to go the other way. She must've flinched because George turned her way.

"Oh come on Gracie. You can't let on that you know, right?" She rolled her eyes at her girlish reaction and nodded at George. He turned to her, "So I take it you don't feel the same way?"

Immediately Grace felt guilty. Tab was sweet, cute – hell, she'd appreciated his handsome face more than once, she was only human. She shrugged, "I don't know George". He nodded at her whispered answer.

Three miles up, three miles down. The butt of Grace's rifle was smacking her left thigh every few seconds, making her scowl. Her gait was getting careless. It was a little difficult to concentrate with the weather – even though it was mid September, the summer didn't seem to want to go away.

Suddenly, Grace felt her backpack's weight give.

"Lewis!" she breathed out, trying not to attract any attention. Lew was close behind her, his left arm out, lifting up her pack by the bottom. He simply quirked an eyebrow at her, beside him, Webster smirked at her apparently agreeing with Nixon. Not that she didn't mind the sweet gesture, but if he got caught, she was certain it would be _her_ reaping the punishment.

Grace held her rifle up a few inches and pushed her legs faster, getting out of Lew's grasp. She got past Bill and was about to run beside him when he opened his mouth.

"Jesus, woman, you trying to win a damn medal?" He grunted out.

She sped past him, "Bite me, Gonorrhea". She heard him, Johnny, and Bull chuckle as she fell in stride with Tab. "Hiya Tab".

"Bill giving you a hard time again, Gracie?" He smirked down at her, knowing how short her fuse was when she was tired.

She wasn't quick enough to banish George's statement from her head, as she quickly acknowledged Tab's nice smile, "always", she heaved back, shaking her head.

Love, lust – they have no place in war. Perhaps Grace was jaded by her experiences, but she'd lost two people she loved to this war already. One feeling she couldn't imagine was being _in love_. In general, Grace had never been in love before – but in love during a war you're fighting in? She balked at the situation.

For all the smears of dirt on her body, her short nails, her tangles hair and men's trousers; Grace _was_ a girl's-girl. She enjoyed dressing up, makeup, nail polish, dancing. A few years ago, she thought of love frequently. Grace had wanted a man to love her completely, recklessly even – and for her to reciprocate. Then the war broke out and she was witness to immense heartbreak from women losing their men.

To imagine herself caring that much for a man who would be fighting with her was enough to make her hair stand on end. Being honest with herself, she had to ask: _could she stand another man - who could potentially own her heart – be taken away from her again because of this war?_

Her eyes landed on a figure a ways in front of her then, she recognized the graceful pace – Ron. She bit her lip, _if she had the chance with him – could she walk away_? Something about this man's mere presence made her stomach flip. Edging away from Tab a bit, she allowed herself the forbidden pleasure of appreciating Lieutenant Speirs' form. His sun-tanned legs running gracefully, her eyes raked down the expanse of his broad shoulders; the thin material of the white paratrooper's shirt stretched across his damp back. Grace bit her lip, cursing herself for the thoughts that would keep her up tonight. He was a model soldier; that much was certain. Stepping awkwardly to avoid a big rock in the path, the butt of her rifle hit her thigh again hard. Groaning softly in pain and annoyance, she tore her eyes away from Speirs. _Taste_ _of your own medicine_.

After smacking the monument at the top, Grace was halfway down with Easy who had been trailing after Dog when she saw three men in the middle of the path. Two who she didn't know where laying down, covered in dirt, and the third was Speirs, standing over them, hands on his hips and breathing hard.

Grace was next to Lip, "What's going on?" He asked as she took off faster to them.

Falling into her role as medic, she approached them hastily and set knelt down, "What happened here Lieutenant?" She asked briskly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized she hadn't used this tone in quite some time.

She looked up at Speirs who eyed her seriously, "Private Thomas here and Private Clark ran into each other on the way down. Thomas' leg is busted and Clark's finger isn't looking right".

Reacting to the more serious of the two, Grace turned to Thomas, who was crying out in pain.

Grace reached around, removing her backpack and opening it quickly. Her hand dove in and retrieved a bandage. Eyeing what she could see was bone sticking through his shin she spoke softly but with authority, "Private Thomas, you've broken your leg with that fall. I'm going to need you to steel yourself, I need to stop the bleeding to make it better, alright?"

"He's the fucking idiot who tripped me!" The other Private, Private Clark was screaming at Grace.

Grace ignored him and looked around her, spying Gene she almost cried in relief, "Roe! I need you on me, now!" She saw Lieutenant Winters accompany Roe to her side.

The Easy men who had seen her sprint forward to the commotion were starting to gather, Ron eyed them warily as Winters called out to them, "Keep going Easy company, it's under control". He swiftly commanded, his attention going back down to Grace and Ron's two injured privates.

"What do you need me to do Sergeant?" The dark haired man asked as he knelt beside her.

She was all business, "Take this bandage, I've got an open fracture – I can see the bone. To stop the bleeding, I need to push the bone back in and align it as best I can. Lieutenant?" Ron's gaze held hers evenly, "I'm going to need you to hold Private Thomas, this should be quick but I can't have him moving around." Ron could hear her Irish lilt become more pronounced as she spoke.

"No morphine?" The man Ron recognized as Doc Roe asked Grace.

Grace shook her head, "No – the infirmary doesn't let me take it out on camp and we need to stabilize him before he can be moved. Ok, ready?"

Ron got into place behind Thomas, his arms holding him supportably. Ron nodded to her; he turned his eyes on the wound. Like lightening, Grace's pale fingers expertly pushed the bone back under into place; she swiftly grabbed her canteen and poured water onto the wound cleaning it; immediately Roe passed her the bandage and she held it steady to the opening in Thomas' leg and wound it around securing it with pressure. Thomas struggled limply against Ron's grasp.

"Lieutenant Winters, see those two sticks to your right? Would you please go get them for me", Ron watched as Grace, in full authoritative-mode, spoke lithely to Winters – the image of calm, cool, and collected.

Winters was back with the sticks within a second and Grace placed them on either side of Thomas' shin.

"You're taking long enough over there!" Clark was still seated on the ground, seething at Grace.

Ron felt himself bristle with fury and was about to lay into him but Grace beat him to it, "You'll wait your turn, Private". Her voice held no jest. Grace quickly unbuttoned her BDU shirt and ripped off the bottom of her undershirt, "I don't have a bandage to tie our splint to his leg, so this will have to do".

Ron stared at her pale stomach, which was now exposed.

"Gene, I need you to tie our split to either side of his leg using the bandage." Gene nodded and gracefully took over for Grace as she moved over to Clark who was leering at her now.

"If breaking a bone would'a gotten you out of our shirt I would've done it sooner", Clark sneered at Grace.

Ron looked up at Winters, whose face was red and matched his own in disgust – but Grace beat them to it again, "Do you have a sweetheart at home somewhere, Private?" She asked softly. With Clark's back to him, Ron could look directly into Grace's eyes. Her eyes searched Clark's intently, almost erotically – and Ron felt himself burn.

Clark took a second to ask, no doubt his mind in a hormone-induced fog. He nodded feebly and stumbled an answer, "Y-y-yes".

Speirs studied her face as she gazed at Clark, then bit her lip, "Where does she live?" Ron clenched his teeth as she practically cooed at the Private, holding his injured hand.

"In Colorad-Ahhhh!" By his scream, Ron knew she'd played around to distract Clark, then realign his finger. He felt himself smirk as Grace looked away from the Private annoyed.

She stood up, "Lieutenant Speirs, Lieutenant Winters – Gene and I can take Private Thomas and Private Clark to the infirmary".

"Well done Gracie, thank you", Winters answered her. She nodded to him and turned to Ron.

"Of course, quick thinking Sergeant Grant – thank you Doc Roe", Ron nodded at Grace and Gene; with Gene's help, got Thomas on his good leg. Grace came around to Ron's side and slid her body underneath his arm to help him walk. The four of them made their way down the path and Ron and Winters began to run again.

Once they made their way back to the camp, Easy was waiting outside in formation with Sobel pacing in front of them.

"Oh what now", Ron heard Dick growl under his breath as he took off to his company.

Ron jogged to a stop nearby to hear Sobel lay into Winters for being late and Winters try to explain why. Sobel wasn't having any of it.

Ron shook his head and started towards his barracks, "Sergeant Grant! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Sobel yelled. Ron turned on the spot to see Grace and Roe supporting Private Thomas, attempting to make their way to the infirmary. They stopped to address the Captain.

"Sir, Private Thomas broke his leg in a fall with Private Clark while running. Roe and I are taking them to the infirmary, sir". Grace spoke, breathing hard – her ripped shirt exposed.

"Spina!" Sobel bellowed out, the other medic for Easy ran forward, "Take Sergeant Grant's place and you and Roe escort these men to the infirmary".

"Sir, yes sir", Spina said, Grace lifted Thomas' arm and Spina slid under.

Watching them limp away, Sobel turned back on Grace, "For making Spina and Lieutenant Winters late, you will run Currahee again. Now button your shirt, Sergeant, you have to at least _pretend_ to have some decency around here." He spat at her, looking down his nose.

Ron's blood went ablaze at Grace's unfair and unjust punishment and for what Sobel had insinuated. He watched helplessly as Grace squared her shoulders, saluted, and took off again towards Currahee.

Breathing hard and her feet heavy underneath her, Grace buttoned up her shirt. She didn't have the passion left at the moment to even be angry. All she felt was abandonment. She was flooded with the need to see her father; to see Chuck. She blinked her eyes rapidly, attempting to dismiss the tears that were trying to escape. In that moment all she craved was a hand to hold hers, a deep voice she trusted to tell her to keep going, to keep her head up, that she was resilient, that this was _worth_ all the humiliation.

Slinging her rifle around so she could hold it, she trudged up the path. As she was nearing the spot where Thomas and Clark fell, she heard footsteps approaching her. At first her stomach dropped, thinking it was Sobel; but as the sound neared, she made out more than one pair of boots hitting the dirt. From either side, five figures appeared.

"You are not in this alone, Gracie", Malarkey panted beside her.

"No fucking way", Joe grunted.

Grace could weep seeing Malarkey and Joe joined by Tab, George, and Bill.

"Give me this", Bill said darkly, grabbing Grace's rifle.

Tab reached for her and grabbed her backpack off her shoulders, sliding it on. All Grace could do was endure silently; any attempt at talking on her part would have resulted in tears. So she kept running, meeting their pace wordlessly – and they understood.

Right before camp came into their sight, they gave Grace's backpack and rifle back. Running back to barracks, Grace caught sight of Ron, leaning against his barracks like he always did. This time, however, his gaze on her was steely and powerful.

"Lieutenant Speirs need a moment with you, Grace?" Bill asked, regaining his breath.

"I reckon he does", She breathed out, keeping her eyes on Ron. The boys made to run away from her when she called out, "Thank you".

"Anytime", Malarkey winked at her, running away – Joe and Bill following him.

"Just don't make this a regular thing, right?" Tab playfully pushed her a bit and she cracked a smile back.

"Wouldn't dream of it", she said; feeling Ron's penetrating stare on her, nearly burning her skin.

As Tab took off to the barracks, George turned to her, "It was Tab's idea….it didn't take much convincing, but…"

Grace nodded her head, "I get it George, you're rotting for Tab."

"No way, I'm just saying…."

"I'll thank him for it, George. Thanks for telling me".

"Sure thing doll", George winked and ran after the boys.

Grace walked towards Ron, drawn to him like an orbit; it was strong and natural like gravity. As she neared, Ron held out a cigarette for her and she took it smiling slightly at him.

"I honestly have no words-" He started after a minute, looking at her, coming up with a blank at what to say after the prejudice of it all.

"It's ok – that was actually pretty tame compared to other times", Grace said softly. She was speaking the truth, not even trying to lighten the mood.

She could practically hear Ron's teeth grinding, "I overheard the men talking about wanting to run with you", she looked up at his rugged face. He was so close, she could see his day-old stubble that decorated his handsome face.

"Yeah, they caught up with me", she said, diverted by the protective sheen in his eyes. How can she feel safe with him when she barely knows him?

"I know – I distracted Sobel while they ran out". He said flatly.

Her heart jumped up in her throat at his admission. "Then I have to thank you as well", she murmured. "Thank you".

For several seconds they stood and held one another's gaze. Grace was mesmerized by the way Ron's eyes buoyed her, anchored her; she realized then that when he wasn't around, she felt uneasy. She also instantly recognized the danger in that feeling.

Ron was staring, admiring the way the light bounced off her hair – making it glow red, like leaves in the fall.

"You were impressive out there", Ron said quietly after they both finished their cigarettes.

Grace nodded modestly, "It's just instinct mostly, like muscle memory".

"You're….." He stopped suddenly and Grace watched as his Adam's apple bobbed and he narrowed his eyes at Currahee behind her, "You're very talented".

She pursed her lips, sure that wasn't what he was going to say, "Thank you Lieutenant".

Ron turned abruptly to go back inside, "You've got guard duty tonight". It came out more as a statement than a question, Ron noticed.

"Yes, I do", Grace's voice answered behind him.

"I'll see you then", He answered stiffly; he heard her turn and walk away, the gravel crunching under her boots.

Ron exhaled and took out another cigarette a second later. He cursed himself in his head – that was close; there was no way he could blurt out how beautiful she was when they were training for war.

**Please review! Reviews are better than sharing a smoke with Ronald Speirs….well, maybe.**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

Thank you, thank you, thank you for those who are reading and being patient while I make this story the best it can be! Please keep reading AND reviewing!

AN: Please excuse the 2 typos in the last chapter. When Sobel says Grace made Spina and Winters late, it was supposed to read ROE and Winters. AND…when Grace tells George he's 'rotting' for Tab, it should've said he's ROOTING for Tab. Thanks for understanding.

I know dates of the actual events might be off….but from here on out, they'll be mostly accurate.

"You got this, Gracie-girl. I mean, you taught me and Chuck how to dance, remember?" Lewis spoke softly in Grace's ear as she was fiddling with a box of chalk.

Managing to get it open to take out one piece she turned to him, "I remember, Lew. Thank you for the pep-talk but I think you might be more nervous than me".

"I think you might be right", he murmured looking behind them at the crowd of soldiers that were talking their seats in the hall. "How many companies are coming?"

Grace turned around, "Just Easy and Dog – the others got their lectures last week". Turning back, she placed the piece of chalk in its holder under the clean board ad took a deep breath.

Lewis, ever a man after her own heart, stealthily produced his flask, "care for a pep talk from Vat?"

Lew smirked as Grace's eyes grew and she grinned, "have I ever told you that I love you, Lieutenant Nixon?" She took a healthy swig, the heady sweetness welcome to her.

"Not enough for my taste….and you're welcome. Now go get these boys, Sergeant". Lew slipped his flask back into his pocket and left Grace standing at the front of the room.

Grace turned around, her eyes following him as he jogged to the first row and sat beside Lieutenant Winters. On Lewis' other side, Grace's eyes landed on Lieutenant Speirs. His eyes snapped up to hers and she nodded to him; he nodded back, his eyes reassuring.

Grace had begun to crack the immaculate statue that was Lieutenant Ronald Speirs. She knew he was born on April 20th, his favorite holiday was Thanksgiving, his mother had a beagle named Eddie, and that he preferred a good scotch. She also knew he wasn't afraid of what the war would bring him – they hadn't spoken too extensively about their feelings on war, just the logistics, but she knew by his answers and opinions that he had a tough mindset for battle. He had learned the specifics about her as well: her birthday was July 12th, her favorite holiday was the Fourth of July, she spent her summers with her brother at Lewis Nixon's summer home growing up, and she preferred Irish whiskey. What she appreciated about Ron was that he never asked why she was discharged from the British forces, he let her lead the conversation when it ventured into her combat history – even though she could feel he was interested.

Even though Ron and Grace _never_ called one another by their first names, they were getting to know one another – and Grace was beginning to learn that he only ever really smiled when he was alone with her.

Grace heard a whistle and she looked to her left – in a group to the left of the room was Easy company. Her close friends were all smiling big at her – Malarkey and Muck waving. Arching a brow in amusement, she looked to the clock – _right on time, oh-nine-hundred_.

"Good morning, Easy and Dog companies", her voice immediately quieted the men in the hall.

"Good morning Sergeant Grant", they said, voices from the Easy side coming out stronger. Slipping into the room unnoticed by Grace and the rest of the men was Colonel Sink, eager to see the Sergeant, who had made a name for herself, in action.

"This morning you're gathered to partake in a lecture about Combat Medicine. I've given this lecture to all of your medics in each of your companies, and the regiment has seen it fit for you all to hear it as well. I agree with them. Needless to say, Combat Medics are essential to the success and care of every man in their companies; and Combat Medicine is something every man – not only the medics – should understand _and_ be able to put into practice." Her eyes quickly swept the room, all the men seemed to have her attention. "Medics are staples in the functionality of the US Army, as every squad is required to have a medic in attendance when going on any hazardous mission. These medics are not just assigned by mission – they live and work with those Soldiers day in and day out. They conduct formal sick-call and they also spend a significant part of their day talking to and monitoring those Soldiers. They can tell you what allergies each Soldier has, their meds, their past medical history, and also the names of their wife and kids. They play a mental health role, as well as advising those Soldiers on medical matters "_off the books_" – as we all know Soldiers are notoriously reluctant to seek out sick-call for injuries and ailments all by themselves." She drawled her last sentence out, earning chuckles from the men in front of her. "Medics are found in every stage of medical treatment in a combat zone. They initiate medical treatment at the accident or injury location, maintain medical treatment during evacuation to healthcare facilities, and provide medical treatment in the medical facilities themselves. They are highly trained to perform medical duties in hazardous and challenging atmospheres. What we are going to discuss this morning Gentlemen, are the most important of these duties so that in the event you find yourself, or your comrade in need of help – you can save someone's life."

The lecture Grace had worked so hard on had become effortless for her to recite as she'd done it more than once. But being in front of men who weren't medics, she was praying they took it all seriously and to her delight, they were soaking it up. Even the Dog company men who didn't know her personally, were attentive. She surmised that the obvious attentiveness of Lieutenant Speirs had a big hand in it; she'd overheard stories of his fierce and hard reputation.

"This certainly isn't our last lecture - from here on out, we'll be putting all of this into practice out in the field; but does anyone have any more questions before we're done?" Grace asked. Lewis raised his hand, his face serious, "Yes, Lieutenant Nixon".

"Sergeant Grant, can you tell us your experience from your combat jump in Operation Crusader?" His deep voice penetrated the room. At once, every pair of eyes were staring intently on Grace. Grace fought the impulse to narrow her eyes at Lewis. She knew he was interested in her personal experience and he was _dying_ for her to tell him how she ended up here, how she was discharged.

The most intense of the stares were coming from Ronald Speirs. He knew Grace was smart, after her concise lecture he thought she was brilliant. Her thoughtful remarks and crystal-clear understanding of combat medicine would stick with the men. After Nixon asked her the question about her service, his ears perked up. Ron had been itching to ask Grace about her service, her own experiences - but he refrained because he did not want to push her. The reluctance he could see in her eyes for a millisecond confirmed he had been correct in not pushing her with inquiries off his own.

"Thank you for your question Lieutenant. We are all making our final jump for our wings in the coming days – you must understand how imperative this training has been." Grace stated, staring Nixon down. From beside him, Ron felt Nixon shift under her heated gaze. "We made our jump at night." Any sound in the room immediately came to a complete stop. "The plan was submarines would deploy and send their men onboard to connect with us, but because of weather they had to delay. We, however, were on time, had hit our DZ – and without man-power – no longer had an obtainable objective", Ron felt himself leaning in his chair towards Grace as she spoke with conviction. "We marched all night to get to decent cover, to establish our line when the landings eventually happened." She paused, her eyes taking in all the men's thoughtful faces, "all of this training – you expect that when you jump, they'll be waiting for you; but that jump was met without any resistance. It was the next day that it all went to hell". She became almost meditative when someone, obviously lost in her story already urged her on.

"What happened the next day Sergeant?"

"Initially we had four targets to take out. With fewer men there because the landings didn't happen, our Lieutenant Colonel Laycock decided to proceed and send us out to destroy two of them. He set up HQ near the landing beach then dispatched us to take Rommel's headquarters".

"Rommel?" Nixon murmured from beside Winters and Ron.

"Yes – Rommel, the Desert Fox they call him. We moved to a spot at daybreak, stayed there until nightfall and then kept marching. We made it to Rommel's HQ some hours later. Our CO – Captain Campbell led us to the main building after getting past the perimeter guards. When we got to the building, there were no windows and no door apart from the front door. So Captain Campbell pounded on the front door, shouting in German".

"Crazy-ass Captain", Ron heard one of the Easy men whisper behind him.

"They usually are Malark", another answered in a thick Philly accent.

Ron found himself greedily listening to Grace's story, he recognized how eager he was to learn anything about her, "A German soldier opens the door, Captain struggles with him for a few minutes – ordering us to remain where we are. Unable to take him out silently, he shot him. This of course draws the attention of other German soldiers nearby – and they come running, firing everything they have. We had to pull back." Grace's eyes found Ron's and he sat up straight, holding her gaze, "Meanwhile, Lieutenant Colonel Laycock's position at the beach was discovered. He sent the men in small groups to get to our line undetected. Thirty-seven days later, only Lieutenant Colonel and one other man made it to us.

"Jesus", Talbert, the man next to Ron who he recognized, breathed out.

Grace continued, looking up at the men, "Point being – the jump is only one hurdle. You do not know what will meet you down there – you have got to be ready to take action, any action, the second you step out of that plane. Jumping has to be instinctual so you can focus at the task at hand and be there for the man next to you", Grace finished, her eyes making their way back to Ron.

"Well said First Sergeant Grant", Colonel Sink's booming voice called out over the men from the back of the hall. Everyone snapped to a salute in the hall, "At ease", Sink called out. "I came to observe the very fine lecture Sergeant Grant has given to you – damn fine job Sergeant. I also came here to tell you you'll be making your final jump this afternoon. See you on the field".

Everyone once again saluted the Colonel at his departure and he saluted back, exiting the hall.

All eyes went back to Grace who nodded, "Best of luck to everyone this afternoon – dismissed". Immediately, all the men were talking eagerly about finally getting their wings.

Grace made her way away from the podium when George Luz intercepted her.

"Maybe once we're pinned paratroopers you'll finally get a hold of a weekend pass, huh Gracie?" He leered at her and she smirked, and his eyes turned serious, "quite a story you had there by the way".

Tab stopped beside them, "yeah Grace – you never told us that before."

Grace shrugged, "well you know – I figured eventually one of you would ask. Of course it was good old Lew who did the honors; I'm glad he did though", she confessed – it felt good to talk about it in hopes that it would help the men when they eventually jumped into combat.

"Oh yeah, why's that?" Tab asked, interested.

Grace turned to him, "Because, it makes me sound _that_ much more 'guts 'n glory' to you fellas – I need all the heavy rumors I can get, I've got a reputation to maintain". She joked, bumping into his shoulder.

They made their way outside to their barracks, under orders to prepare for the jump. Walking beside Tab, George, and Joe, they passed by Lieutenant Speirs who had caught Grace's eye.

As they passed, all of them saluted, "Sergeant Grant", Ron acknowledged her vocally.

"Lieutenant Speirs", she responded.

They kept walking in silence before Talbert spoke up.

"He's always looking at Grace", he said to the other two men. Grace furrowed her brow, she wasn't aware anyone picked up on that.

"I've noticed that too", Joe said turning to look at Grace who kept her stare forward.

"What's the story there, Gracie?" George asked.

"No story, we have night guard duty sometimes", she said stretching the truth.

"There's somethin' about him…..none of the D company men know much about him", George said looking at Tab and Joe.

"I talked to a few of the fellas from D – story is, Speirs takes most of the night guard duty himself", Joe replied, casting another glance at Grace. Hearing that Ron had given himself all that night guard duty, her heart began to beat harder.

"He spends all that time with you Grace?" Tab asked her.

Not about to outright lie, Grace deflected the question, "really Floyd? Didn't take you for a jealous type. You've certainly gotten enough action in town, or so I hear from you and the boys after a weekend pass".

"So that's a yes, then?" George laughed, clapping Tab and Grace on the back.

Tab and Joe grunted and Grace kept walking with them.

After getting to the barracks, Grace grabbed her BDU's and stepped behind the makeshift screen she and Muck came up with her first week. Muck and Lew insisted she have some privacy to change, so Lew found some rope and a tarp and Grace and Muck strung it up in the small corner away from the bunks.

Grace wondered if Tab's comments about Ron came from a place of jealousy, brotherly concern, or annoyance. She had no idea. After nearly every weekend the men had in town away from Camp, she always listened raptly to their eventful tales of all the mischief they'd gotten away with. There were numerous stories of Tab making time with different girls. He was quite the ladies man it seemed. So why would Tab be sweet on her if he could have any girl in the bars?

She _is_ the only girl around – she's the only female they see during the week, they sleep next to her, hear her change her clothes, see her come back from the showers; it's only natural she'd receive attention here and there. Growing up without a mother, she had died when Grace was an infant in Ireland in a car accident; Grace was always around her father and Chuck. As a girl, she had a crush out of convenience: she had fallen in love (girlish love, really) with Lewis Nixon one summer after a dance. It was 1938 and she was 15 and he was 17. He'd asked her to dance a few times and she remembered not being able to sleep that night. She really only held a torch for him because he was the only boy she was close to who _wasn't_ her brother. Chuck had figured it out, but he always kept Grace's secrets faithfully. _How things have changed_.

Grace threw her BDU shirt around her shoulders, buttoning it up. Lew is still a looker, but he had been the only guy around for her to fawn over. _What about Ron_? Her mind threw at her, Grace's fingers paused for a second over the last button. Is that an infatuation born out of convenience? In her heart Grace acquiesced to her feelings that he is not a convenience for her. The feelings that erupt within her when he merely looked at her are powerful, enduring, lingering, overwhelming. It is different from some infatuation. _But what does he feel_?

Instantly frustrated with herself and shoving her shirt in her pants she asked herself why it even matters. These are not normal circumstances. In her fantasy world, Ron would ask her on a date – dancing or a movie. She would put on a dress, some choice garters, fuss with her hair; they would hold hands without worry, maybe he would kiss her at the end of the night. Here – in reality – they only speak intimately away from the ears of others, she's wearing dirty OD's like him, rolling in the mud all day; and the only physical contact they have is when their fingers graze one another's when passing a cigarette.

Biting her lip and shaking her head, Grace found dark humor in her behavior: she's practically blushing at the innocent thought of 'fantasy' Ron holding her hand – yet the 'real' Ron gruffly shares cigarettes with her on an almost nightly basis. Grace certainly didn't have to remind herself that she is a veteran soldier and combat medic – she shouldn't have the ability to blush anymore. She's a good soldier, a good medic – not the girl in her day dreams. She may blush like her still when she thinks of Ron, but she will never be her again.

"THREE OKAY!"

"TWO OKAY!" Grace shouted.

"ONE OKAY!" Winters shouted.

Grace watched, calm, as Lieutenant Winters threw himself out the door of the plane. She shuffled up to the door, unafraid. Throwing a grin behind her to Lew, she flew out the door. The wind whistling violently in her ears, she took a brief opportunity to say a Hail Mary and admire the green Georgian land that was steadily approaching. Guiding herself to the clearing of the DZ, she reveled in the thought that this is the last jump she will make out of combat. Seconds later, she rolled gracefully to the ground and gathered up her chute without much struggle. Noticing a figure who was getting dragged by their chute near her, she jogged over to go help. A second later the man stood up and glared around him, his eyes landing on Grace. Captain Sobel. She turned swiftly away from him and jogged over to the gathering point.

"Woooooo!" From the bar next to George, Grace grinned over at Bill and Muck who are chugging their beers.

Joe Toye leaned over the bar, grinning at Grace as George attempted to impersonate Sobel, "Are those dusty jump wings? How do you expect to slay the Huns with dust on your jump wings?"

Grace sniggering at George, Joe leaned over further, "Just get me a beer, will you Luz?" Looking Grace up and down, Toye rasped, "Looking good Sergeant, you make those dress greens look gorgeous".

Pulling a smirk Grace answered back holding up her beer while George smiled at her, "Currahee, boys".

They nodded once and clinked their beers together, "Currahee".

Finishing her third beer with George, she turned to him, "These look damn good, don't they George", she mentioned to her wings.

"Now that you mention _those_, beautiful", Toye drawled out sneering good-naturedly.

"Jesus Toye, I was talking about my wings", she said stealing his beer without him noticing. She turned back to George, "My jacket was looking a little bare huh?"

George laughed softly and grabbed Malarkey who was passing by. He pointed at Grace and spoke to Malarkey, "Hey – every angel needs her pair of wings". Malarkey winked at her, grabbed a beer and walked away.

"Funny guy, Luz". Grace laughed. They clinked glasses again.

Colonel Sink stormed in proudly at that moment, everyone snapped to attention.

After a short toast, Colonel Sink raised his glass, "Remember our rallying cry: Currahee!"

"CURRAHEE!"

Colonel Sink made his way over to the bar as the music turned back on, full volume.

"First Sergeant Grant", Colonel Sink said to Grace over the music.

"Colonel Sink", Grace retorted.

"Enjoy tonight men – you've earned it", Colonel Sink said to George, Toye, Malarkey, and Muck who stood nearby. They all nodded their heads. "Grant, a brief word outside?"

Grace nodded her head and followed the Colonel outside.

"Sergeant Grant, I asked you for a word to present you with this", he held out a piece of paper to Grace; a piece of paper that looked eerily familiar. "This is your honorable discharge as an enlisted soldier". His eyes studied Grace, her heart dropped through her body. _Was this happening again_? "I'm making you a DCO".

Her eyes snapped up to his, "Sir?"

"Direct Commissioned Officer. Because of your exemplary performance on the field, your training of the men and medics, and your past experience – we need you in a position where you can make an impact on Easy. Congratulations 2nd Lieutenant." He presented her with her single gold bar. Pinning her he continued, "typically newly commissioned officers are transferred, but due to your unique position here, we want you with us. You'll remain in the general barracks with Easy until there is an opening in the officer's barracks. Any questions Lieutenant?"

"No, sir. Thank you, sir, for this opportunity". Grace said, saluting Colonel Sink.

He saluted back and grinned at her, turning sharply and walking away. Grace shook her head and turned back towards the open door: music, smoke, laughter pouring out in a thick fog.

"I think congratulations are in order", Ron came around the corner, flicking a cigarette. Eyes twinkling at her, he nodded and smiled at her, "Lieutenant Grant".

Noticing the smile he only ever flashes when they're alone, she smiled softly back, "Thank you – although I should be congratulating you as well Lieutenant Speirs". It may have been the three beers Grace knocked down in twenty minutes, or it could be the recent promotion, Sink's praise, the weight of her new wings, or even Speirs' gaze – Grace was flying. She strode to Ron, and raised her hand, touching his wings. "Congratulations to both of us".

She looked up at him and realized how close they were – the closest they've ever been physically. Grace could smell him: the smoky cigarettes outmatched by an earthy spice – all masculine and all Ron. Her eyes boldly floated down to his lips.

Ron gazed down at her, a few beers in himself. As she stepped even closer to him, he swore he felt his body grow warmer and lean towards her. He studied her face as she looked at his wings. He can see the dimples on her cheeks as she smiled and the light freckles that decorated her pale face. Her eyes looked up at him through dark lashes, then down to his lips – his hands curled into fists as held fought himself from what he wanted to do since he first saw her.

"Gracie", Nixon's voice broke the tension as he stepped outside. His took in their close proximity and his eyes narrowed at Ron, "Lieutenant Speirs".

"Lieutenant Nixon", Ron nearly spat out, refusing to move an inch from Grace's warmth.

Grace looked to Lew, tugging her jacket and noticing Lew's stare at Ron, "Lewis".

Lew looked back at her, "boys want you in there for darts".

Grace smiled at that, "that's a first".

"Well since your passes are always getting away from you, they set up a board in there to play. Show 'em who's boss – they won't know what hit 'em".

Grace turned to Ron, to her delight he was still close, "Coming inside Lieutenant Speirs?"

Ron, stone-faced, replied "After you Lieutenant Grant".

Grace began to walk toward the door and Lew, "Lieutenant?" Lew asked, searching Grace's face.

Grace arched a brow and shrugged her shoulders at Lewis, making the light bounce off her gold bar on her shoulder. "Sink gave me a Direct Commission".

Making her way in, Dick Winters intercepted her with Carwood Lipton.

"Congratulations Lieutenant, I can see the good Colonel gave you a much-deserved promotion". Winters appraised Grace, smiling.

"You'll do great, Lieutenant", Lipton said.

"Thank you both", Grace said giving them a smile.

Grace intended to keep Ron within her sight, but she was being pulled in various corners from men wishing her well. She received whistles and hugs, pats on the back from Johnny Martin, Joe Toye, Bull, Webster, Roe, and Spina.

"I can't think of a better medic to lead us than you Lieutenant", Roe said to her.

"Thank you Gene – we're on the same team. As long as we're not in front of any brass, you keep calling me Grace, ok?" To her relief, Gene nodded smiling softly.

"Gracie!" Muck greeted her enthusiastically, handing her some darts.

Grace smiled big at him, "hey Muck. You guys got a game going on here?"

"Hell yeah we do – we thought you might'a ditched us", Joe Liebgott said, smirking.

"Never", she beamed at him, winking. "A Lieutenant would never ditch her men".

"Lieutenant?" Malarkey said, a smile playing on his lips, "would you look at those butter bars" – his eyes landing on her shoulder.

Bill slung an arm around her shoulder, "Hey Tab, George – check out our new 2nd Lieutenant. Congratulations Grace".

Tab bounded over and yanked Grace into a hug, "That's great Gracie – you're not leaving us now are you?"

Grace shook her head, "no – Sink is keeping me right here where I can keep an eye on you – and…" she took aim at the dart board, "teach you boys a thing or two about darts". _Bull's-eye_.

A couple games and four earned packs of smokes later, Grace has swept all the boys at darts. Her and Tab have beat everyone.

"You are my Lucky Charm, Gracie", Tab says, his arm draped around her.

"Makes sense – she _is_ Irish", Bill says reaching for his beer.

The music is still roaring from the speakers and the party is still underway and kicking. Smirking, Grace picked up the packs of cigarettes, pocketing two and handing the two others to Tab.

"Hey Lucky", George calls out to Grace, earning a few grins. Grace laughed at George's name for her, "fancy a dance with a lowly radio tech?"

Grace bit her lip, suddenly shy. Being the only female there, there are no dancing couples to join….but after the beers she's had….

"Why not George", he grins at her.

George grabs her out-stretched hand and pulls her close, producing hoots from some of the men. They danced a couple songs, laughing and twirling.

After the second song ends, Joe's voice comes from behind her, "can I cut in?" Grace takes his hand and thanks George for the dance. "Congratulations on the promotion Gracie".

"Thank you Joe. You too – for getting your wings", she smiles.

He smirks, "You know – you keep dancin' this good and you'll have every man in Toccoa in a line behind me".

"You're not so bad yourself. I'm sure most of these fellas here though could benefit from a lesson or two".

Joe laughed dryly, "They might take you up on the offer…but from a few of these stares they'll be gettin', they might pass".

Grace narrows her eyes in confusion, "What do you mean?" These men, sticking their nose in her pseudo-love life were making her eyes roll.

Joe spun her in time with the music then pulled her close, speaking in her ear, "well, Tab is dying to dance with you, I know that much. Lieutenant Nixon is drinkin' Vat like it's going out of style…..and your Lieutenant Speirs is currently giving me a death-glare".

Grace pulled back from his close embrace a bit, trying to conceal her excitement at his thoughts about Speirs, "you're making a mountain out of a mole hill", she says as the second song finished.

Joe winked at her as he called over his shoulder, "if you say so".

Grace pondered getting another beer when someone called her name.

"Grace", turning around, she saw Tab holding his hand out to her. She smiled and gently took his hand as a slower Glenn Miller song began. Pulling her towards him and keeping a hold of her hand, he slipped his other arm tight around her waist.

Grace looked over to her table of friends who are still playing darts. Joe and George smirked at her and she tried to hide her smile. Grace averted her eyes and noticed Lewis nearby – thumbing his flask and throwing heavy glances her way. He is taking the big brother role very seriously. _Maybe Joe was right_. Like gravity, like a magnet – Grace's eyes effortlessly distinguish Ron's dark figure from the corner of the smoke-filled room. Partially hidden by a group of Dog company men who were loudly playing poker; her eyes searched his handsome face – and she can see a pointed glare directed fully at Talbert.

She openly took in his set jaw, fully acknowledging to herself that Ronald Speirs – in complete authoritative mode – is captivatingly beautiful. Suddenly, his eyes locked onto hers, his stare softening. She immediately wished Ron would walk across the room and ask her to dance next.

What does she really expect though? Grace knows she can only tell the depth of her feelings for Ron to herself. Feeling the weight of her jump wings, her new bars on her shoulders – they reminded her that she is reentering a war with the men around her. There is no time for distraction of any kind – even for a divine distraction such as Ronald Speirs. Looking into Ron's eyes, Grace hoped she could convey her profound regret of their forbidden circumstance to him. _Please_, she thought, _please understand._

Sensing a change in tempo to the music, Tab gently swung her around and pulled her closer – her eyes searched for Ron again, only to see him retreating from the building.

Turning her attention back to Tab at the end of the song she smiled to him, "I'm glad you came here, Grace". He said to her. "I mean, otherwise things would be boring around here, I'd be without a dance partner, and who the hell would I play darts with?"

"Thank you Tab", Grace whispered to him.

"You'll make a hell of a Lieutenant, Lieutenant Grant".

"Thank you Sergeant Talbert". They share a smile and break apart.

Grace needed some air after all the dancing . She made her way immediately to Lew, elegantly snatching his flask from his fingers and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek when no one was looking. Turning to the door Ron walked out of, she went outside.

Ron stood outside, leaning up against the wooden fence facing Currahee. Putting out his cigarette, he sneered at the sky. He slipped – he let his emotions, his strong feelings for Grace show themselves tonight. Ron had to admit it to himself – he couldn't stand there watching her dance. He wanted to be the man with his arms around her waist. Grace had completely conquered him – his mind and body have surrendered to her before he could offer her that first cigarette. He cannot act on it, as much as he wanted to – the situation they are in, the reality of the world…it's impractical and would only hurt them both.

"Lieutenant Speirs", Grace's soft voice broke the silence. Ron looked over and saw her approaching, tugging her jacket around her. The late November evening was cool.

Ron watched her walk closer, noticing her hair bouncing with her gait, "Lieutenant Grant".

Grace stopped within six inches of him, appreciating the way the moonlight bounced off his face. Her eyes stopped again on his lips, she allowed herself to take in their perfect shape. Agonizingly, she looked back up at him – at his darkened eyes, his lips parted, she could hear his breathing.

Holding her intoxicating gaze, he imagined himself pulling her towards him. He wondered what her warmth would feel like pressed against his chest, what her lips would feel like against his. God, it would be so easy.

Grace held her arm up, in her hand one of her packs of cigarettes she'd won from darts. He broke their thrilling gaze and looked at her offering then looked back up at her potently. She hoped he understood – _this is all I can give you right now._

Ron stepped forwardly, boldly closing the distance between them and closed his hand over hers feeling her smooth skin on his.

Keeping his eyes on her as he accepted her gift, he heard her whisper in the dark to him, "Happy Thanksgiving".

**Thank you for being patient for this chapter! Please, please review! **


	6. Chapter 6

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

Thank you again for reading! I can't get this story off my mind, so lucky for you I've been writing regularly. Please keep reading and please review!

Captain Sobel was putting Grace through the wringer. Running Currahee with the company in full gear in the mornings, firing range after breakfast, classroom, lectures all day to medics, then to the companies, then Sobel made her run the training course ever afternoon by herself. Sometimes he would show up, other times he wouldn't; but she still knew she had to run it all the same.

Out in the field, Grace was taking Easy and Dog through a bullet extraction and treatment lecture.

Standing before them in her white paratroopers shirt and BDU pants like the rest of them, Grace spoke, "The very talented medics in each of your companies already know this drill. In the field or on a mission you may not have the luxury of having a medic nearby – so each and every one of you should know what to do, and how to do it the proper way." Grace cast a glance over the group seated before her, "everyone grab a partner. Gene, Spina – grab Dog company's medics, do the rounds and make sure everyone is doing this right".

"Of course, Lieutenant", Gene said, grabbing Spina.

Grace spotted Lew without a partner, "Lieutenant Nixon, thank you for volunteering to be my partner and lead example." Lew smirked at her and jogged to Grace. She patted him on his back, "Whoever is playing the wounded man, lie on the ground. That would be you, Lew – you can practice on me after".

Lew lied back smiling devilishly at her, "Don't mind if I do".

Amused but unimpressed, Grace smiled, "You wish". Lew shrugged, not apologizing. Making sure everyone was settled, her eyes landed on Ron who was knelt over a private and squinting through the sun at her. Grace began her lecture, "before you assess the wounded man, you must make sure it's safe to do so. No sense in putting yourself in the line of fire and stretching the medics even thinner than needed. Do not move the wounded man unless you must do so to keep him safe or get access to care. Act quickly – time is your biggest enemy in this situation." Kneeling down over Lew she continued, "Remember you're A, B, C, D, and E's – the five critical factors to assess." She placed her hand on Lew's neck, "A is for airway – if the man is unconscious, make sure their airway is unobstructed. B is for breathing – is the man taking regular breaths? C is for circulation – check for a pulse. If there isn't one, you should administer CPR", she looked down at Lew who was smirking, "we'll save that lesson for another day". The men laughed at that.

"Today's not your lucky day, is it Lieutenant Nixon?" Bull asked.

"Agreed Randleman, it's a damn shame", Lew responded.

Grace chanced a glance at Ron, who was staring at the ground – what she'd give to use him to teach CPR. "Ok boys". Taking a breath, she continued, "D is for disability – this refers to any damage to the spinal cord or neck. Check to see if the wounded man can move his arms or legs or if any bones are sticking out where they shouldn't be. Any injury can be made worse by moving the man in this case. Finally E is for exposure – you need to make sure to fully expose the patient near their wound so you do not miss any injury that's not obvious."

After completing the lecture, she was about to dismiss the men for their hour off before afternoon PT and Grace's daily training course run when Captain Sobel bounded up to the group.

"Easy company, fall out!" The men ran out immediately and Grace was about to follow suit. "Lieutenant Grant".

"Sir, yes sir".

"You have one hour before you report to the training course, correct?"

"Yes sir", Grace said.

"I was told Dog did not receive the lecture on knife and bayonet wounds. Do something useful with you time and distract another company for the afternoon." He stared down at her, spit on the ground by her feet and took off after her men.

Looking over to Dog company, Grace could see the shock on some of the men's faces at Sobel's treatment of her. Embarrassed and avoiding Ron's eye, she started the lecture.

"Grab a partner again, Gentlemen", she said. Hearing footsteps and feeling someone behind her, she turned around – Ron. "Lieutenant Speirs, without a partner I see?"

Ron looked her up and down discreetly, never seeing her in a t-shirt before, "I suppose it's _my_ lucky day, Lieutenant Grant". Ron motioned for Grace to lie down, offering the 'wounded' role to her. Admiring her amused smirk, he watched her lay down and he knelt by her side.

"First things first, boys – check the airway for any obstruction. If the stab wound is close to the chest, then it may be an issue. Tilt the wounded man…or woman's head to the side to help".

Ron looked up to see the men going through the exercise expertly with the help of the medics. He reached forward with his right hand, looking at Grace, and stroked her cheek, hearing her gasp slightly at the sensation. Ron couldn't help but acknowledge how soft her skin was. Focusing, he tilted her head to the side, following her instruction and exposing her pale neck to his hungry eyes.

From his knees, Grace cleared her throat softly and continued, "Next step is to remove their clothing." She locked eyes with Ron, he concealed his smirk, and he held her gaze with an obvious longing. She bit her lip and kept going, "this of course will alert you to the exact location of the wound". She whispered up to Ron before she carried on, "where's my wound, Lieutenant?"

Catching him off guard, Ron fixed her with a hard stare – appreciating her daring comment yet damning his imagination for filling in the blanks. Ron could only clench his jaw and focus on her voice as she continued the lecture.

Grace was cursing her warm cheeks and the audacity of her colorful comment to Ron as she pushed on through the lecture as fast an efficient as she could. She knew that him touching her and her statement had both crossed a silent boundary they had established. Before she could combust with the combination of her need and his smoldering gaze, she had managed to conclude the lecture and get to the training course just in time.

Making her way to the training course, Grace breathes a sigh of relief to see the Sobel isn't there, that means she can remain in her shirt and pants – no full gear. Someone came to a stop near her, sending a small cloud of dirt in front of her feet. She looked over and frowned slightly, taken aback.

"Lieutenant Speirs".

"Lieutenant Grant", he replied.

After a beat and no explanation, Grace had to ask "Something you forgot?" She suppressed a smirk at the implication of her question.

Turning to her confidently, he answered, "I'm running the course with you".

She paused, "for fun?"

Without missing a beat, "what's wrong with a little friendly competition?"

Ron took off towards the course and hesitating for only a second, Grace took after him. Reaching the beginning at the same time, Ron and Grace smirked at one another as they began. Breathing hard, Ron jumped to throw himself over the wall, Grace following. Neck and neck throughout the course, Grace was focused entirely on Ron - his gruff panting beside her. Ron was also zoning in on Grace's heavy breathing and painfully aware of her near to him. Nearing the end of the course, Grace pulled herself ahead of Ron, laughing and elating in the fact that she could gloat now. Without thinking, Ron laughed too and grabbed the back of her shirt, making her falter and her back fall against his chest. On their own accord, Ron felt his arms encircle her waist as they spun from their momentum. Grace's heart leapt up to her throat at the feeling of his arms around her. Ron fought the urge to pull her closer, then pull her into a room away from everyone. Grace jogged with Ron to a stop as his arms regretfully fell from her waist.

Laughing breathlessly at themselves, Grace locked eyes with Ron. She took the chance to admire his face; his usually tidy hair had been shuffled and was casually swept across his forehead. Ron took in her figure – her BDU paints hugging her hips perfectly and her white shirt rode up a little, exposing her perfect skin that Ron now knew how soft it was. His eyes travel up to her face – she was staring at him, a serious expression on her face.

"You are so handsome". Her mouth speaks before her brain can catch up. Her cheeks flame as she realized what she just said to a superior officer.

"You are so beautiful". Ron said, equally honest. Grace looked up to him, her heart pounding. Beyond his form, she could see Joe and George – openly staring. Ron followed her gaze and turned back to her.

"Duty calls?" He asked, his voice low.

Grace smiled softly, "Good day, Lieutenant". Keeping her eyes locked onto his as she walked by him, his hand reached out and grazed hers. Suppressing a shiver, she started jogging to Joe and George.

"You can deny all you want Gracie – that shit don't lie", George said.

"Who's lying about what?" Grace said, jogging past.

June 1943, Camp Mackall, North Carolina

Captain Sobel stood before them, once again, yelling.

"We will be split into two groups for our official field exercise today. Second platoon will be led by me and will have the objective of making it back to this field from a starting point. First platoon's objective will be to effectively stop us from getting there. Lieutenant Winters".

Next to Nixon, on Grace's other side Winters spoke up, "Sir, yes sir".

"You will accompany me. Lieutenant Grant".

Grace felt this coming, "Sir, yes sir".

Sobel spoke louder to make sure every man heard, "Colonel Sink has seen it fit to award you the promotion of Second Lieutenant. Even though it's been months, I still require convincing". He came to a stop at her, looking down but keeping his voice at the same volume, "You still want to play soldier, here's your chance. You will lead first platoon. Fall out." He shoved past her as the men under him followed.

Grace took a breath – _time to step up_. Turning around to address her men, she squared her shoulders. All of Easy company is more than competent, but first platoon was comprised of relatively new and younger men; mostly cover-fire squads and nervous privates. One look at their eager faces and Grace realized she was not the only one with something prove here.

Grace stood with her NCO's and a map of the area spread out in front of them, "Here is where they will be coming from", her hand hovered over and area at the top of the map then she dragged it down, "and here is their objective". Taking in the area's markings she continued, "Sixty percent of the surrounding area is hard terrain – no possible way to transport troops on-foot. I believe the enemy's best possible route is a direct one".

"Lieutenant, should we trail them?" One of them asked.

Grace shook her head, "No Sergeant, our mission is to ensure that no one gets to the field. We need to intercept them head on." She looked up at them, their faces serious, "That means strict light and noise discipline and heavy camouflage".

After relaying the orders and objective to the men, they headed out, pulling branches, twigs, leaves, and brush under the netting of their helmets. They knotted the brush together and slung it over the backs of their BDU's. Grace led them out to the tree line.

Across the field, about to perform PT drills, Ron spotted Grace running across the field with a group of men. He smiled, feeling proud of her – it was about time she was in charge.

An hour later, the only sounds around them were the creaks of the forest. Huddled in an embankment, Grace was in front keeping the men holding their covered position. Her eyes trained forward, she spotted their two scouts minutes later.

They dropped next to her, "The enemy is north-west of us, making their way into cover".

The other spoke, "They are textbook position for an ambush, Lieutenant".

Grace nodded, "Well done Private Jackson, Private Claffey; fall back". They made their way back to the pack and Grace turned around, signaling to the NCO's to move to position themselves in front of the approaching enemy.

Ten minutes later, they were all in the brush – Grace had them hidden, weapons drawn, and at the ready. In their silence, she could loudly hear the enem drawing near their position. Heart pounding, Grace held her hand up – readying the men for the command to stand and aim. She could feel the sweat beading on her neck in the heat as she held her breath, waiting for full visual confirmation. As obvious and loud as an air-raid siren, Grace saw the other half coming. She could make out Sobel in his obvious leather jacket, Winters and Lipton behind him. Grace's heart sank for a moment, with Sobel's poor leadership, in a real mission – her and the men would be dead.

She fluidly gave the command and the men were quick to obey – catching the enemy completely off guard. Rising up out from their concealment from the brush, they pointed their weapons directly at their enemy. Grace's barrel was pointed right at Sobel, his shocked face staring right at her. Grace was flooded with a searing anger – if Sobel was to lead them in combat, she and the men she'd grown to love would end up on the other side of a German's rifle.

Grace spoke up forebodingly, "Captain, you've been killed along with ninety-five percent of your company".

One of the Mackall Majors steps from Grace's rear, obviously having followed them, "Your outfit?"

Sobel answered solemnly, his eyes seeing through Grace, "Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, Five-oh-Six".

The major spoke again, "Leave three wounded men on the ground and report back to the assembly area". He spoke to Grace, "You can take you men back too Lieutenant". Grace nodded back.

Looking up at the men they just 'killed', she grimly locks eyes with Winters who nodded at her, his disappointment obvious. She moved her eyes to Eugene, who looked back at her in defeat. Grace's heart sank further – something _had_ to give, all of their hard work and training was circling the drain with Sobel at the helm of Easy.

Grace turned around to address her men, "Job well done, first platoon." Her men held her gaze, discreetly nodding and smiling – they had made an impact today.

Back at camp, Grace sat with Dick and Lew in the officer's barracks.

"Don't look so proud for killing Dick, Gracie. Can't you see he's heartbroken?" Lewis nudged her arm as he walked by, rummaging through his ruck-sack.

"She completed her mission, Nix. There's no hard feelings, is there Grace", Dick turned and smirked softly at her.

"Thank you Dick, and no hard feelings at all", She said. "All the men need is good leadership – not officers crapping out on their training", she added in a soft voice.

"Well, what are you gonna do?" Lew asked.

"Keep training the men", Dick answered.

A figure came into the doorway just then. By his butter bars, Grace pegged him as a 2nd Lieutenant like her. He came in and looked right at Dick.

"Am I interrupting?" He asked, his eyes flicking to Grace.

Dick looked at Grace then Lew, "No". Standing up he continued, "Lieutenant Lewis Nixon and Lieutenant Grace Grant, this is Lieutenant Harry Welsh; just transferred from the 82nd". Harry stepped forward and shook Grace's hand then Lew's hand, a contagious smile playing on his lips.

"Congratulations on the promotion", Harry said to Lew. Grace smiled at Lew, so Harry was Lew's replacement when Lew goes to Battalion.

"Oh thanks, if you can call it that", he said, winking at Grace. He motioned to Dick, "You'll learn him pretty quickly – no flaws, no vices, no sense of humor".

"Just like your new chums up at battalion staff?" Grace said and Harry laughed.

"What's up?" Dick asked Harry.

"I'm hearing a lot of rumblings", Harry spoke, looking at the three of them. They eyed one another knowingly.

"Sobel?" Lew asked. Harry nodded, "We were just talking about that".

Harry looked at Grace, "So, he gets a little jumpy in the field?" Grace nodded.

Lewis spoke for her, "MmmHmm. He gets jumpy and then you get killed".

Harry laughed dryly, "that's nice".

Dick stepped closer, "Yeah – listen, if we discuss it, I think it should just be amongst ourselves".

They were about to concur when Sobel briskly walked in, looking around. Eyeing them all warily and a half-eaten apple in his hand he spoke, "Second platoon ready?"

"They're ready, sir", Winters spoke.

"Then get them in formation, we're moving out", Sobel said, chewing his apple and looking Harry up and down.

"Yes sir", Winters responded.

Sobel took another bite of his apple then glared at Grace and walked quickly away. Dick walked out after going the opposite way. Harry turned to Grace and Lew, one brow raised.

"Pleasure to meet you both", he said, Grace and Lew nodded their heads at him as he too went outside.

Grace turned to Lew, "I'll see you on the train when we move out".

"You can count on it", he eyed her for a second. "I hear you've been christened with a nick-name."

Grace smirked, "Oh really, you've heard that, have you Mr. Intelligence Officer".

"Angel", Lew smiled.

"Come again?"

"The boys are calling you Angel. Guess after your stunt out in the field, pulling through with a usually casualty-ridden first platoon – the boys think you've got a Midas touch". He said smiling.

"What do you think about that?" She asked dryly, wondering how that stuck.

"I think it fits. You've always gotten me out of trouble". Lew winked at her, "see you on the train".

A train ride and a flask of Vat between herself, Lew, and Harry – they found themselves boarding a ship in a Brooklyn Naval yard on September 6th, 1943.

Her curls blowing off her shoulders, she stood with her arms resting on the railing of the ship's bow; watching with the men as the Statue of Liberty passed by, bathed in the pink hue of the sunset. She slowly pulled out three cigarettes, lit them and wordlessly handed one to George on her right and the other to Tab on her left.

On the troop ship, the days were monotonous. The only way to know whether it was day or night was to climb out of your bunk, make your way down through hundreds of soldiers, climb up a hundred stairs and get up to the deck to take a look at the sky for yourself. This was a pain in the ass for any man, but for Grace it was a nightmare. Easy company was used to her close proximity but the hoards of other companies not in their battalion hadn't seen a woman daily in a long while. Grace had learned her lesson attempting to shove her way through the throngs of soldiers alone – she'd gotten one too many grabs to the ass and hands around her waist. She chose to get the time of day by asking and to stick close to her men and her bunk, which was under George, right next to Tab's, and surrounded by Bill, Joe, Malarkey, Muck, Toye, Perconte, and Lip.

One night near the end of their journey at sea, Tab and Grace were laying in their bunks next to each other, both of them humming 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy'. Grace had her legs in the air, tapping George's bum from under his cot with her feet in time with the song.

Bill groaned from his bunk, "Hey fellas – and Grace – let's get a poker game going, huh?"

"Not supposed to play poker with you guys anymore", Grace murmured to herself.

Tab heard, "What? Why the hell not?"

George stuck his head over his bunk and looked at them upside down, "No poker?"

"No gambling with enlisted men. Winters says no officer should put themselves in a position to take from you guys". She said, picking at her nails – her one pet-peeve of being in the army was not having her nails nice.

"We won't tell Angel", George said.

"So – you all in?" Joe called up to them, climbing into Bill's bunk.

"Come on", Tab said, pushing her. Grace smiled and climbed out, following George into Bill's bunk.

"Aw….isn't this sweet – look at this sleep-over, Tab. Can we join you?" Grace asked, smiling at George, Joe, and Bill sitting close together on one bunk.

"Sure we can have a sleep-over….if the rest of these damn guys clear out, what do ya say Angel?" Joe said, winking and handing her a cigarette.

"Shut up Lieb", Tab said.

"Move over, huh?" Grace said to Bill, climbing in next to him.

A few rounds later, most all the bunks in their row were clear – most guys watching the same movie they've played for three nights in the mess hall.

"Another round then gentlemen, Gracie?" Bill asks.

George immediately started dealing without waiting for an answer. Grace shifted her weight, her foot falling asleep, "No – I'm out."

She looked down, George was dealing her in anyway, "You're in whether you like it or not, Angel". Money and packs of smokes begin to litter the middle of Bill's cot.

"Come on, George – take back my hand".

"No – you'll mess the deck all up". Tab chided her.

"You want out – you're gonna have to _buy_ out", Joe drawls and George's eyes widened with a smile.

"Jesus – how much?" Grace asked.

"No", George held out his hand, stopping the conversation, "I'll give you two options – this is a _trade_, not a buy-out". Bill, Tab, and Joe looked intrigued.

Grace put out her cigarette on the floor, "go on".

George smirked; he's got her trapped now. "Option one – you explain to us what me and Bill and Joe and Tab here all saw between you and Speirs back in the states."

Immediately Grace shook her head, cheeks flaming, "No." How the hell would she explain that and not sound like a total idiot.

"You don't want to hear the other option?" George said in all seriousness.

Grace cocked her head at him, "What's the other option?"

He grinned, "Ok, ok – option two, give Tab a nice kiss".

Joe and Bill grinned back at George, clapping him on the back and throwing laughs at Grace. _You have got to be kidding me_.

George continued, "A _good_ kiss – no sissy shit".

"George", Tab started.

Bill cut him off, "Shut it Tab, Angel here has a decision to make – it's a code of honor".

"Is that what you call it, Bill?" Grace said. "I'm a fucking Lieutenant, no one can catch me doing that, you're crazy; we're getting shipped to a war", Grace was interrupted by Tab.

"You're right Gracie", he turned to her with a smirk, "we have no idea where we'll be in a year, we might regret _not_ doing this. I don't want to live with regrets".

"Kid's right", Joe said.

"No, the point is – we're surrounded by a bunch a boys and _you_ all want a floor show for some new 'alone time' material", Grace was blushing furiously and losing fight. Truth was, her _frustration_ was just as potent as theirs was, not that she was about to admit that.

"Tell us about Speirs, then", George said.

Grace bit her lip, "No one can tell anyone about this, ever; especially not Lewis, for fuck's sake".

"Jesus, the mouth on her – Angel, you kiss Tab with that mouth?" Joe said, laughing.

"That's her choice", Bill added.

"Fuck off", Grace hissed under her breath, looking at Tab who was trying not to grin. _Of all things to ask, George had to ask this. _As much as she might enjoy a kiss, it wouldn't be from the man she wished it was, Grace couldn't do that to either man. "I could just pull rank and be done with it, you know".

"Yeah, you could – but where's the fun in that?", Tab said.

"You like us too much to do that", Bill said, lighting another cigarette.

"Not _too_ much apparently", Grace heard Tab mutter under his breath. Grace's eyes snapped to his, he grimaced realizing she'd heard him.

"Well, by all means", George started, prompting Grace.

Grace closed her eyes and took a breath, feeling ridiculous and put-on-the-spot. "There's not a whole lot to tell, guys", her voice a whisper.

"Try us", Joe said evenly.

She looked up at them, exasperated. "I shouldn't be _feeling_ anything", she started; Grace was touched to see the expression in their eyes change at her deflated posture. Shaking her head, she continued, "I don't know – it's just, there's something there".

"Something between you and Speirs", Tab said, eyes fierce.

"I don't know. You wanted me to say something, so I'm saying there's _something_ there", Grace admitted, every exchange she could remember with Ron immediately diminishing in relevance at her admission. She suddenly looked up at Joe, Bill, George, and Tab and shrugged, smiling – hoping to pass it off like she didn't care, "it's probably because I'm the only girl around, right? I mean – that's why you guys keep me around", she joked. Grace wanted nothing more than to get up to the deck at that moment.

"That's not why Gracie", Tab said softly.

She smirked, embarrassed, "Yeah – well I'm gonna go up for some air."

"I'll be right behind you", Bill said.

Grace nodded and began to walk down the narrow path. Feeling extremely exposed, she had an immense urge to be bold, to get the last word, to show she wasn't _weak_, that she wasn't affected by anyone. She stopped mid-step and turned around, making her way quickly straight to the boys.

Seeing her make her way hastily towards them, Joe hit George and Tab on the arms. Grace walked right up to Tab and grabbed him by his collar and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on his lips. George looked over to Bill who was smirking.

"I'm not about to let you live with regrets." Grace said to Tab, breathless.

She turned back around and walked down the path, needing to get out up on deck. From behind her she heard them whistle at Tab, Grace grinned to herself and then thought of Ron. No regrets.

**Please, please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

A very big thank you to everyone who is adding my story to their favorites, alerts, and are reviewing! I very much enjoy reading all you have to say!

Aldbourne, England January 1943

The 506th had been in England since September of '42. For most of the men, it had been their first time out of the United States, their first time this far away from home; they were energized with foreign surroundings, exploring the green and gray landscape, immersing themselves in the old-world speech of the inhabitants around them. They felt contented with this pseudo vacation, apart from the daily drills and exercises, war could easily be put out of their minds for a spell – especially with a visit to the local pub and a smiling face of an English rose. Surprisingly, for Grace, around every corner of the quaint village was a memory; every lilt of the locals' accent provided a loaded remembrance of her time and service in this country. Her reminiscences of England, which began with wide-eyed exploration and naïve enthusiasm, tarnished quickly with the reality of the war. Seeing England again to Grace was likened to encountering an old, awkward, sad acquaintance; you cannot spend so much time in one place and not carry a bit of it always inside of you. This realization was a revelation to her. After being with Easy for so long, the echoes of what she experienced had diminished to a low hum. Stepping back into the arena she'd left so hastily years ago had them coming back with a vengeance.

The perpetual damp weather and fog that set in during the New Year had seeped its way into Grace's head, weighing it down. A melancholy that took its hold of her following her admission about her strange feelings towards Speirs had not lifted, and she wondered absently if the very uttering of those words somehow broke the spell. She had not interacted with the handsome Lieutenant since they departed the USS Samaria. She still caught his eyes on her when all the companies were together; and he'd caught her several times as well. Sometimes in his presence, she felt the deepest connection, yet other times she felt completely alone – as though any bond to him was her own bitter imagining.

The fresh excitement of being in a new country was not tangible among the Officers, war was too close now; weekly briefings of their impending action made sure they didn't forget why they were there to begin with. A cold reminding assaulted Grace of why she should not get involved with Ron. Logic scolded her of her feelings for him, yet her heart tugged dramatically when her eyes met his across the room at these stale briefings. The unsteady need to acknowledge her heart nearly compelled her to touch him; they never touched intimately before in the States. With the war they were about to enter looming over them, she felt ticking in the depths of her soul, urging her on to throw caution to the wind before either of them would be taken by the carnage of battle that she knew too well.

It was no secret that weekend passes for Grace while Stateside were rare, but while in Aldbourne everyone was able to enjoy them – Grace included. She had not taken advantage of it, however, because somehow on the trip to England, or so was reported to her, her dress greens had been lost. Every soldier was required to wear standard issue dress greens while out and without them, Grace had nothing to wear – and Sobel wouldn't let her wear men's trousers. What _was_ curious, was that Sobel _had_ managed to recover her medals and Lieutenant bars from her dress jacket which told her they were not lost completely, just being withheld from her. Another tip that Sobel and his cronies and once again tampered with her things was that in lieu of dress greens, she was given a few civilian dresses to put on, should she wish to use her weekend passes. Grace chose stubbornly to hold out; she caught onto Sobel's plan when she first saw the flashy dresses offered to her. Captain Sobel was attempting to dilute her obvious popularity with Easy by stripping her of the bells and whistles on her uniform and forcing her into just the role of her sex.

Having discovered the real reason from Grace as to why she wasn't joining them at the local pub for beer and darts, Tab and George had convinced her to throw on a dress, and have a good time with the men, Sobel be damned.

"We know you're done in there, Gracie, come out", Tab rapped on the door impatiently.

George turned to Tab and shook his head, "is it so bad to look like a girl for one night?"

"You're tellin' me, I wish Sobel lost my dress greens", Tab sniggered back.

Grace's voice came from the other side of the door, "it's unfortunate the couple I'm billeted with are not here, otherwise you would have to wait outside and I could contemplate how ridiculous I look without commentary".

"I seriously doubt you look ridiculous", Tab said trying the handle – locked. "_You're_ the one who's acting ridiculous".

"I look like Rita Hayworth, this is stupid", she muttered.

George laughed, "that is _not_ stupid, come on – all the beer is gonna be gone!"

They heard her walk to the door and pause, "don't you dare laugh".

The door squeaked open, revealing Grace in an emerald green silk dress that stopped at her knees, hugged every curve, short sleeves, and expertly tailored with a cinch at the waist and a deep V as the neckline. Grace was billeted with an older couple and the older woman lent her makeup and hair supplies. Grace had to practically relearn how to make herself up to be on par with the dress she was made to wear. Her deep auburn hair hung in glossy waves around her shoulders and she marveled at the feeling of makeup on her face. Shifting in her black heels under the silent stares of Tab and George, Grace felt a giant wave of embarrassment tackle her.

"Your faces say it all – I can't do this", Grace shook her head, balling her fists.

"No, no, Jesus. You look…." Tab started.

"Speirs is gonna flip his lid", George quipped, grinning at her.

Grace fixed George with an exasperated roll of her eyes, "it's been a while since I've gone out like this".

"Well enjoy it – we sure as hell are", Tab chuckled.

Grace nervously laughed, "all I need is a whiskey and then I'll stop thinking, shall we?"

Tab offered his arm, as did George; Grace smirked and took them both. They got down stairs and outside when George turned to her.

"You got a jacket?"

Grace groaned, "oh, screw it. I'm not going all the way back in these heels".

Tab laughed and they maneuvered their way through the ancient streets to the pub. In the waning light of dusk, Grace could make out throngs of soldiers, both British and American inside the pub through the windows, talking and smoking; music made its way to her ears. The veil of indifference Grace put on when she walked out with George and Tab evaporated and she suddenly, desperately wished to be back in her dress greens so she'd fit in. Women were obviously and dangerously outnumbered, so attention was inevitable. Butterflies erupted in her stomach and her sure footing faltered.

"No one is going to think any less of you, Lieutenant." George said lightly.

"Yeah – unless you dance with some Limey bloke", Tab joked.

"Alright, let's do this", Grace said, taking a deep breath.

Tab leading the way, headed into the pub and went straight in towards the back. Grace's eyes immediately located the familiar faces of Easy men spread out among three tables in the back corner and she felt herself smiling. George squeezed her arm and let go, bounding to Malarkey, Bill, Joe, Frank, Bull, Martin, and their newest addition, Lieutenant Buck Compton.

"Suck in the guts boys, we got ourselves a lady in our company", George announced. Grace inwardly rolled her eyes. There went her plan of sitting down discreetly and draining a bottle of Jameson by herself.

Tearing her eyes away from George's amused grin, she looked to her men – all staring at her. Suddenly, under the beautiful yards of emerald silk, Grace felt absolutely naked.

"Take a picture, fellas, it'll last longer", she drew heavily on her courage, trying not to bite her lip. Funny, she thought, she could face enemy fire but scrutinizing gazes of men made her want to run and dive under her bed linens. Funny even more that they _know_ she's a woman, but she was able to conceal herself under filthy OD's and behind a gun. Here, before them simply in silk, her gender was screaming.

George laughed aloud, throwing a wink at Grace and lighting a cigarette.

"Dibs on a dance, Gracie", Malarkey said, grinning at her. Grace smiled and nodded, making her way towards their table.

"Lieutenant Grant….." Buck spoke to her, smiling his hundred-watt smile. "You look like a million bucks".

"Why thank you Lieutenant Compton", she smiled up at him, playing along with his formality.

"You tryin' to make everybody jealous?" Bill came over and stood close to Grace. At her quizzical brow, he elaborated, "you're the best lookin' girl in the pub and none of the Easy guys are gonna let you talk to anybody else in that dress".

Grace smirked at Bill, "can't help it if they're jealous, Bill." She leaned into him, like she was sharing a secret with him, "between you and me, I only like Easy men anyways".

Bill laughed and looked towards the other back corner of the pub, "you sure about that?" Grace followed his eye line and saw the table opposite theirs. Ron was sitting at a table talking with Harry Welsh, Dick Winters and Lewis sat with them, laughing.

"Very funny", Grace said dryly.

"I knew you'd get a kick outta that, kid", he smirked.

Joe walked by, empty glass in hand and called out to Grace, "I call a dance with you, Gracie" Grace smiled and nodded at him.

"You are going to distract all the guys playing darts", Muck appeared beside her, handing a beer to Bill.

"Is that your way of admitting I'll whip you at darts or that I look nice, Skip?" Grace asked.

He grinned, "Both".

It had been over an hour since she walked in. Ron was counting the minutes. He had been quick to make sure she didn't catch him staring as she usually did. He was aware of his jaw clenching slightly, every time a new pair of arms encircled her waist to accompany a new song. Ron shook his head slightly at the position he'd put himself in: an impending war and his peculiar feelings for this woman. He couldn't shake her from his thoughts, even though they'd seen one another so rarely since their arrival in England.

He felt a shift in the mood when she walked in, on the arms of Luz and Talbert. Ron had felt his jaw slacken slightly at her astonishing appearance. Her cheeks pink from the attention, her skin gleamed in contrast to the deep green of the silk that hugged to her curves, auburn waves sweeping her back as she laughed with the men. She was glowing. Beside him, Nixon cursed under his breath when he saw her.

Lewis Nixon was having a hard time keeping his composure. Being an educated man, and an intelligence officer, he was good at filling in the blanks; a near expert at insinuation and subtext. He wasn't blind to the fact that his honorary sister acted differently when in the presence of one man. He had watched her hazel eyes eagerly seek this man out on more than one occasion: in the mess hall in Toccoa, running Currahee, while she gave her lectures, in England while at briefings. Lewis took note that she was practiced at keeping her cool while doing so, but the action was there nonetheless. When Grace entered the pub this evening, looking every bit angelic as her nickname, Lewis finally fully appreciated this man's reaction to her presence. The ever-feared and dominating Ronald Speirs couldn't take his steely, slightly jealous, yet admiring eyes off of Grace; and Lewis, begrudgingly noted he couldn't either.

Glenn Miller's 'Moonlight Serenade' filled the pub to appreciative murmurs from the crowd. Next to him, Lewis heard a pub stool scrape the ground suddenly and he watched as Ron stalked deliberately towards Buck Compton and Grace, dancing together once again.

Although her feet would hate her tomorrow morning, Grace could not dispel the inexplicable energy in the air. Dancing with her men, one after the other, lifted her spirits a bit if even for a little while. With the invasion coming soon, she could draw upon these moments when sitting at the bottom of a mud-filled foxhole.

Buck was a very good dance partner, Grace thought. She must have been one too, as this was the third time they were taking their turn on the dance floor.

Abruptly, Buck pulled her closer. A grin on his face, he whispered to her, "Someone's coming for you, Angel".

"Lieutenant Compton", Grace's heart sputtered at _his_ voice coming from behind her.

"Lieutenant Speirs", Buck stated conversationally, still holding onto Grace, not letting her turn around. Buck wasn't about to play the assumption-game. Based on what the boys were telling him, Lieutenant Speirs was holding out something on Grace, and Buck was going to make Speirs work for her, he was going to make him say what Buck already knew he wanted at that moment.

Speirs acquiesced, "May I cut in?"

Buck grinned, "That's up to Angel, here". Buck turned Grace so she could look at Speirs.

Ron looked at her absorbedly, "Lieutenant Grant".

Finding her voice, Grace answered, "Yes, Lieutenant Speirs, you may".

Buck squeezed her hand, threw her a wink, and gave her hand to Speirs.

A beat passed with no movement from either of them, just her hand in his. Feeling her heart pound in her chest, Speirs pulled her in close, in time with the heady music.

Talking with Speirs was an experience in itself; having him merely look at her was intoxicating. When his arm wound its way tightly around her waist, his warm hand holding hers, Grace had to fight to keep herself upright by steadying herself on his gaze.

Ron breathed evenly, allowing himself the pleasure of dancing with her, trying to imagine how things would be if their positions were different in the world. He made the remark in his head that bad circumstances certainly have a way of ruining things that would otherwise be pleasant.

Although they could not be together, he couldn't deny she looked breath-taking. Seeing her femininity displayed this openly somehow made him more protective of her. The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them, "Grace, you look stunning tonight".

Taken by the sound of her name slipping from his perfect lips and husky whisper, Grace took a minute to respond. "Thank you Ron", she whispered, his arm around her waist tightening its hold on her. "Thank you for asking me to dance".

His eyes on her, so close; feeling his breath on her lips, she broke their eye contact before she could give anything away and swept her eyes over to her table of friends. They were all openly staring. Buck caught Grace's eye and nudged Harry who had joined them. George and Joe smiled conspiratorially at her. Grace pursed her lips and shifted her eyes to her and Ron's entwined hands. His fingers gripped hers sensuously, he was so warm, and Grace admired the whiteness of her hands compared to the tanned skin of his.

Feeling the heat of her skin so close to his fingers, Ron reveled dancing with her. Looking over quickly to his table he left, he saw Dick talking with a couple British officers nearby, and Lewis Nixon openly glaring in their direction. Without thinking, Ron stealthily pulled Grace tighter against him, making the surrounding air crackle with thick tension.

The trilling, rich melody of the song slowly ended, Grace felt Ron's arms hesitate around her, to her pleasure.

"Grace", he said lowly, in a parting tone.

"Ron", she replied softly, daringly holding his heated gaze. If she _is_ imagining any of this at all, she would reap all she could; she no longer cared if it hurt later.

Grace turned finally as another song began and started to make her way back to her table; biting the inside of her cheek as she felt Ron's warm hand possessively on the small of her back. His hand dropped as soon as she got close to her table. The boys were staring at her, incredulous. Ignoring them, she happily took a seat next to Tab, who silently slid her whiskey to her. Smiling and ignoring their stares still, she looked across the room to find Lew staring at her as well. She lifted her glass to him, nodded her head and elegantly downed the contents in one go.

After a couple rounds of darts, Grace couldn't help but feel a little guilty at all the packs of Lucky's that she, Tab, and George were winning off of Buck, Skip, and Johnny.

"Care for a round, boys?" She asked them. Nodding in approval, they made their way to the bar top. Spotting Lew there and knowing he had avoided her so far tonight, Grace stopped right behind him. "Lieutenant Nixon", she said cordially, "I believe you are ignoring me."

"Lieutenant Grant", he said coolly, not commenting on her remark.

"Grant?" the man next to Lewis in a British army uniform, spat out. Grace's blood instantly ran faster and heated; she knew that pinched voice anywhere, "are you fucking with me?" The man turned around and fixed her with a drunken stare, leering at her up and down.

Going from relaxed to enraged with head-spinning speed, Grace addressed him with venom laced in her voice, "Private Edgars".

"Grace?" Lewis addressed her, seeing her change. Grace ignored him, keeping her eyes keenly trained on the Private who owed his life to her.

Squinting his eyes, Edgars spoke again, "I see you've managed to weasel your way into the Yanky army. You just don't know when to quit, do you?"

Not noticing Ron stepping behind Buck to her right, she answered, "no weaseling needed, Private. You and Lieutenant Cahill are proof of that".

"You Yanks are fucked", he looked around her to the men with her. He turned his eyes back on her, "it's only a matter of time before you royally fuck up again".

Grace felt the men beside her bristle, "I got you and Cahill out of that situation – I do not consider _that_ fucking up".

"You're mental if you think playing soldier will put you on a man's level", he slurred stupidly.

Nixon edged forward on his seat, near him Ron took a step forward with Buck.

Keeping her eyes on Edgars, Grace took Lew's glass of Vat and shot the rest of it. "Why on Earth would I wish to compete with a _boy_ like you? Your _level_?" She smiled darkly, "It's beneath me".

Edgars stood up abruptly, "you fucking slag!"

He quickly threw a punch at Grace, who immediately anticipated it and stepped out of the way, swiftly slugging him in the nose.

Leaning over his slumping form, she said darkly, "You're welcome for saving your life".

All hell instantly broke loose. All the men were yelling at Edgars, some yelling out the doors for the Military Police. Seeing a path, Grace ducked outside – she wasn't about to get taken in by the MP's for fighting a piece of shit like Edgars. Not wanting to answer to Lew or anyone else, she managed to get out the door into the cool night.

Walking and massaging her throbbing knuckles from punching Edgars, she breathed hard. Why, of all nights, of all people, did he have to be there?

"Grace", Lew's voice caught her. Stopping her walk, and turning around to Lew, she figured she may as well come out with it and be damned with their reactions.

This was not the way she wanted the truth of her discharge to come about. What choice did she have now?

Suppressing a groan at the sight of all her close friends standing with Lew, she could see Ron at the pub handing Edgars over to the MP's. Her eyes landed on Lew again, staring at her hard.

"Angel, what the hell was that about?" Bill asked.

"He was in my platoon in North Africa", she answered curtly.

"So he takes a swing at you?" Tab said.

"None of that made any sense, Gracie", Joe said pointing to the pub down the road.

"What was he talking about in there?" Lew demanded.

"Nothing – Jesus", she said weakly.

"That's bullshit, Angel", Buck said giving her a steady gaze.

"You can tell us", Lip gave her.

"If he tried anything", George started.

She stopped him, "That's not it at all".

"I thought you were honorably discharged", Lew asked.

"I was Lew", she said.

"Grace", Ron said simply, walking up. Holding her gaze, he nodded. From their talks in Toccoa, he knew something had gone wrong at the end of her time with the British. She needed to get it off her shoulders.

Lew looked between them, frustrated.

Grace took a breath, "I was on a night patrol with our Lieutenant; Lieutenant Cahill, Sergeant Aaron, and Private Edgars". She had tried keeping this away from the men, she was ashamed she had been discharged by simply doing her job – the British men didn't want her there and they had found a way to be rid of her. She had convinced herself that if these men found out, they'd find the same loophole. "We were trying to fortify our line; see how thin we were. We made contact with their line and got heavy fire. Sergeant Aaron was hit hard and went down immediately. I was on Aaron right away, retrieving his tags when Lieutenant Cahill was hit in the neck." Looking up at them, seeing their intense faces, she continued, "Private Edgars froze. As soon as that first bullet flew by, he did nothing. I was stabilizing Cahill, screaming at Edgars to cover fire – he would not budge. After stabilizing Cahill, I yelled at him to grab the Lieutenant and help me – or we'd all be dead. He managed to hear that. We started moving Cahill out by his backpack when the Germans began advancing on us, believing there were more than just the three of us. Again, Edgars froze. I ripped off my medic badge, grabbed Edgars' gun and hosed the Germans down myself, buying us time and stopping their advance. I turned to grab Cahill again when a bullet tore through my shoulder. We got back, Edgars went straight to our XO – who found a loophole to kick me out". Seeing their incredulous looks, Grace looked over at Ron, his eyes keeping her anchored. She felt defeated, she wanted nothing more than to help these men, not _play_ soldier, not be trigger-happy. Her infantile worries of their judgment were ridiculous, yes, but that's how her XO in the British Army felt; who's to say he was alone in those judgments? Feeling deflated and dropping her eyes to the cobblestones of the street, she finished in a soft voice, "I was told Lieutenant Cahill made a full recovery".

The silence that greeted her made her feel the night's cool air with a harsh sting.

"You saved that prick's life, what the hell was his problem?" Nixon asked her softly.

Grace turned her eyes to him, "he didn't want a woman doing his dirty work for him – he wouldn't admit that without my actions, we would've all been dead".

"Are you shitting me, Gracie?" Tab breathed.

A lump in her throat, Grace shook her head, "nope, they wanted me out – and fast".

"But you're here now", Ron said with conviction.

She met his stare, "I am. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else".

"We are not letting you go anywhere, Angel", Buck said assuredly. The tight-knit group of men around them nodded and murmured their agreement. "Isn't that right Lieutenant Winters?"

Dick stepped into their circle, unnoticed by Grace until then, "The British Army were fools to have let you go, Grace. Sink and the brass want you here – and so do I".

Grace let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, "Thank you, sir".

"No thanks needed, Lieutenant – it's the truth".

**Please leave a review!**

**More to come in the following days!**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

A huge, gigantic THANK YOU to all who keep adding me to their alerts and reviewing! It mean so, so much to me to hear what you're all thinking and feeling about what's going on! Keep it up – it makes my day.

September 18th, 1943 Aldbourne, England

Over the last few months, the men and Grace had been through their share of combat training. Bayonet training, wrestling, shooting, mortars, drills, exercises, and lectures. Sink had commissioned Grace to continue her medical lectures to all companies and he had set up a few combat lectures to take the men through the various successes and failures of her previous company. Grace was more than willing. The more real-life information she could give her boys, the more likely they would all make it through their first jump alive. To her delight, they had many questions. After some interesting inquiries that were hard to explain on paper, the good Colonel had allowed her to take her men out in the field to show them how things had happened physically. Under her command, she observed the men making intelligent and concise decisions based on the different situations she put them in. They were growing mentally strong to match their physiques they had gained. All of the men, but mostly her Easy boys, had complimented her on her leadership and communication skills.

It goes without saying Captain Sobel was not pleased with her popularity or her success in leading the men. He also was not thrilled at the fact he couldn't hold his own in the field by comparison. Out on exercises, Sobel always made Grace go with his group and not Winters'; Grace suspected it was because Winters would give her responsibility if she were with him. Sobel made her stick with the men and treated her like a replacement and a private; not giving her the respect of her rank, only calling her 'Grant', if acknowledging her at all. The men obviously knew what Sobel assumed he was being stealth about.

"There should be no fence here!" Sobel practically yelled out as he led them across a pasture.

"Oh Jesus, you have got to be kidding me", Much groaned from Grace's left.

"He got us lost again, didn't he?" Perconte whispered to Grace from behind her. Grace just nodded silently. From her right, George rolled his eyes, exasperated.

Grace held up her hand to the men, signaling for them to take a knee – Sobel had once again not thought of their safety. If this _was_ a combat zone, they'd be fish in a barrel. She watched with a clenched jaw as Tipper handed him the map, and he turned it upside down. When Tipper's shoulders deflated, she knew they were way off course.

"Uh…go…take cover over there!" Sobel screamed over his shoulder, gesturing towards a line of trees and turning right back around to the map.

Without an order as to who should lead the men there, Grace stood up and motioned with her hand for the men to stay low, go by twos and get to the trees. Breathing through her nose to keep her anger in check, Grace knew that if _this_ was how Sobel would conduct himself over in enemy territory, they'd either be dead by German bullets – or she'd take Sobel out herself to save the rest of the men…if someone didn't beat her to it.

Standing at the front of their line next to the trees, Perconte stood up next to her and called down the line, "George! Luz! Luz!" Perco grinned at Grace as George trotted up. "Can you do Major Horton?" Grace smirked.

George looked at Grace, "Does a wild bear crap in the woods?"

Perconte laughed, "Get us out of this mess, huh?"

"Gracie?" George turned to her.

"Don't look at me, Luzzy. Do what you want", Grace giggled and with the men around them urging him on, George turned to Grace and broke into an adorable grin.

"Alright", he said, shushing the men who had almost cheered.

Muck turned to the men, "Shut up, shut up!"

George cleared his throat, "WHAT IS THE GODDAMN HOLD UP, MISTER SOBEL!" Grace almost choked trying not to laugh as she knelt by Muck who grabbed her hand.

Sobel's voice came from beyond the trees, "Who was that? WHO BROKE SILENCE?"

Grace turned to Muck, biting her lip. What if Sobel comes to see what's going on? Muck gave her hand a squeeze and she returned it, both trying not to laugh aloud.

Sobel yelled again, "It's…..a fence, sir! A barbed wire fence!" Grace thanked God for Tipper; he had to have clued Sobel in to 'Major Horton' following him.

"I can't believe he fell for it!" Muck squeaked beside Grace. She pulled him close and threw her hand over his mouth, he shook with laughter and Perconte pointed and laughed at him.

George's smile got bigger, "WELL CUT THAT FENCE", he grabbed Grace's collar and shook it, "AND GET THIS GODDAMN PLATOON ON THE MOOOVE!" The line of men behind them were all shushing and holding onto one another laughing.

After cutting the fence and leading them through the pasture, they got to the road. Grace knew the objective was to get across the road undetected. She also knew that running down the middle of the road in daylight with Sobel screeching 'Hi Ho Silver' was not the covert movement she had in mind. She bristled when Winters' platoon stood up, obviously on time, silent, and efficient. Grace knew how the men must have felt when she 'shot' them in North Carolina. She was happy Winters was successful, but her heart dropped at Sobel's complete incompetence. _When is someone going to take care of this_?

A couple weeks later, word got around how the brass reacted when a herd of cattle trampled over to Battalion HQ. Lewis had described the look on Sobel's face when he was told Major Horton was on leave and not following their exercise. Grace happily relayed the story in detail to the boys.

A week after that, in November, Grace was walking with Lew along a small road leading up to the barracks. Lew was meeting Dick there and Grace came along.

"It's just if Sobel leads us into the jump, into combat – I don't know how we'll survive, how I could possibly be effective when the man doesn't even refer to me as 'Lieutenant'."

Lewis sighed, "I don't have an answer for you, Gracie. Battalion is either clueless or they're turning their heads because someone likes him. There's no word going around about him".

"Lew – say he does take us into combat – what then? Dick and I let him run around Germany screaming 'Hi Ho Silver' to any Nazi going by? He is completely incompetent, he can't even read a damn map", Grace lamented softly, making sure none of Sobel's cronies were around them.

Lewis shrugged, Grace knew he couldn't do anything and that he didn't have all the answers; but it was nice to talk about Sobel with someone – she held back in front of the men because of her rank. "If you want, I could transfer you to Dog Company", Lew said, smirking.

"How would that solve anything, where would that leave the men?" she started, then realized his implication, "oh – shut up Blue-beard". He quirked a handsome brow at her, "you have to shave twice a day – the men call you Blue-beard", she answered.

"That's because I'm a big, strong, strapping man", he said conversationally as Grace laughed lightly. "There's Dick".

They jogged up a bit to meet him, "Hey Nix, nice to see you, Grace", Dick said, smiling.

"Hey yourself", Lewis answered.

"Up for a game, Gracie?" Bull asked her from across the road, holding a basketball up.

Beside her, Lew smirked, "Thank you Bull, but baseball is more my game". She winked and Bull smiled, a cigar hanging out of his mouth as he dribbled.

A jeep pulled up beside the men playing. Grace recognized the man getting out as Sobel's runner. She suppressed a groan as he got out of the jeep and swiftly made his way to their trio.

He handed one paper to her and the other to Dick, "With Captain Sobel's compliments", saluting them both, he ran off and back into the truck. Grace glared after and smirked a bit when Bull bounced the basketball hard off the jeep's retreating bumper.

"You've got to be kidding me", Dick murmured under his breath.

"He misspelled Court Martial", Lew sniggered, looking over his shoulder.

Grace's jaw dropped; Court Martial Dick? She hastily opened her paper and read, her heart dropping violently as her eyes caught her orders:

**Temporary Transfer from 506****th****, 2****nd**** Bat., 101****st**** Co. E. **

– **to HRM Royal Air Field Hospital **

**2nd Lt. Grant will be departing Aldbourne tonight at 1800 hrs**

_Royal Air Field Hospital_. Grace felt a lump in her throat. The hospital her father was killed in, the one that she almost was killed in. Her nostrils filled with the imagined scent of sour rust, her hands immediately felt grimy and sweaty. She has to go back – months before the jump?

Hearing Lewis and Dick call after her, Grace instantly felt herself walking fast towards HQ, where Sobel would be.

Making it to his quarters, she knocked on the door.

"Enter", his voice called. Grace entered in, grasping the paper in her hand, trying her best to appear professional. "Grant", he looked her up and down, "I assume this is about your orders to leave for the hospital".

"Yes sir, it is", She answered curtly, a mantra rolling in her head to keep her from yelling at Sobel: _what would Dick Winters do?_

"There's nothing to address here, you're needed there to help with the overwhelming amount of wounded coming in everyday."

"Permission to speak, Captain", Grace said evenly.

"Granted", Sobel huffed out, moving about his room.

"Sir, this close to the invasion – I must protest this. I am needed here, to train and prepare with my men." Grace offered, her jaw set.

Sobel turned to her abruptly, "you think I wouldn't find out?"

Grace felt her eyebrows knit together, "Sir?"

Sobel advanced on her, "Bar fights are not becoming Miss Grant", he seethed, "_Your men_, as you call them, require a leader with a level head on their shoulders. You _will_ be leaving tonight for the Hospital otherwise you'll be leaving England on a troop ship headed Stateside. Dismissed".

Sobel's hard, dark eyes weighing on her, and feeling the bile rise up her throat, Grace tried to breathe evenly, he's using that fight after all these months? She rigidly saluted him to leave and he simply turned his back on her, briskly walking out of the room. Grace dropped her hand and went to the other door to let herself out to go pack – according to her watch, she has an hour left. She opened the door to find Lewis on the other side, his face grim.

He looked down at her obviously having overheard everything, concern and anger written on his masculine features, "You'll be back before the jump?"

"I plan on it, yes". She answered, her voice sounding hoarse to her ears. Lew reached down and grabbed her hands, pulling her into an empty room. Looking down at her after shutting the door, he rubbed his hands over her shaking ones as he watched her blink rapidly. "What Hospital?"

"Royal Air Field", she answered, trying to gain control over her breathing. Lew held her gaze as her eyes watered up, "it's where Father died….where we were attacked….where everything changed. Lewis, I…" she stopped herself, looking down, blinking again.

"Gracie, you need anything – you wire me to let me know", Lew's voice came out low and hushed. He heard from others in the British Army how those high-action hospitals could be, they could strip you of everything. "I'll try what I can to get you to come back sooner".

Grace felt nauseous and took a deep breath to gain control. The memories she'd uncovered since being in England, she'd managed to maintain, but she knew going back to the Hospital itself will rapidly erode all of the progress she'd made since being assigned to Easy. Living with those men, _her men_, had been so good for her; being around their laughter, their jokes, their hard work and never-ending support had begun to change her. Falling asleep to the glorious sound of her native accent was hypnotizing and she thanked God often that she had managed to land in the same company as Lew. Being suddenly ripped from them spun her brutally and left her feeling cold and alone; starting all over.

"I'm not the same girl as I was when I was there, Lew. It'll be like seeing a ghost." She confided in him, looking down at their hands. "I wish Chuck was here".

Lew was silent for a minute, "He'd be proud of you", he whispered. "I will work on getting you out of there. We need you here. Ok, Grace?" She nodded at him, taking her hands back and squaring her shoulders. "I love you, Gracie-girl", Lew said gently, cupping her face.

She blinked slowly at him, smiling, "Love you too". She closed the distance between them and put her arms around him, "Take care of the boys while I'm gone".

"You know I will – they're lost without you", she felt him smile as his deep voice rumbled in her chest with him pressed against her. She leaned back and kissed him softly in the corner of his mouth. Smiling sadly, she walked out of the room – intent on getting to Gene to let him know he would be in charge of the medics while she was gone.

The sun was setting and the air was chilling as she walked briskly to the infirmary where she knew she would find the soft-spoken Cajun.

Making her way inside and to the back, she spotted him in the supply room, checking inventory.

"Gene", she said softly, sounding defeated to her ears.

"Grace", he said, turning around, "everything ok?"

"I'm being transferred temporarily to the Royal Field Hospital, seems they need help with all the wounded they're getting every day", speaking the words aloud made it all too real for Grace and she had to consciously shove the suffocating feeling she was feeling around her away.

"Lieutenant, they're taking you away – now?" He asked, clearly perplexed.

"Not my decision, it fell into my lap just now", she explained to him, his navy eyes on her face, full of questions. "I'll be back before the jump, hopefully sooner. I leave soon, so I came here to tell you that I am leaving you in charge of the medics while I'm gone. Your'e the best we've got, Gene – I trust you to get it done and prepare them".

"Yes ma'am, you can count on me", he said quickly.

Grace thought of the other men, _her boys_, "I also need you to find Tab, let him know what's up and to tell the other men; I won't have time to tell them myself or to say goodbye".

"No problem at all, Grace", Gene said soothingly, feeling her anxiety. "You gonna be ok?"

Grace faltered a bit at his comment, but knew how intuitive he was, "Hospitals like that are _not_ where you want to be, Gene. They mess with your head if you're there too long, that's all".

He narrowed his eyes in concern at her, "is that why you went to the front lines?"

"Being in the intake wing at that place – you see so many men who've been wounded so badly, and who _would've_ made it had the first medics had treated them properly. Simple things overlooked while out on the front. I knew _that_ was the proper place for me. Out with the men, first response; really saving lives, giving true comfort – not patching up some nervous medic's mess", she said plainly.

"I understand", He said, "you hurry back here – the men need ya".

"Will do, Doc", she said, "You'll be great while I'm gone."

Grace jogged out, making her way to the officer's barracks to get her things together and packed. Her heart constricted as she thought of George, Tab, Muck, Bill, Joe, Malarkey, and all the other men. She nearly sobbed as she thought of Ron. How would she explain the change in her when she got back, if she got back to them? Her pain from the past had been lurking around every corner when she got to England, and she knew it was growing more impatient by the day having not caught her. Now that it had, she feared she'd succumb to it without her men around her to pull her out of its depthless void.

Since she'd left the hospital and England, years ago now, in 1940 – Grace had buried her past, that side of herself along with her father and Chuck. She had closed a casket lid of her own that held her old life, and without ever grieving its death, she had forged a new and fearless one. Facing it all again was like unearthing that casket, having to see the decay and disfigurement of what she once was, who she once was; being made to breathe the stench of her feelings, her grief she had so desperately, blindly buried. Her memory was _that_ powerful. To Grace, the memories she was trying to dodge were just like bullets: some whizzed by, merely scaring her – but now she was being led to a firing squad, and she'd be hit straight-on, and it would rip her to shreds.

Gene Roe watched as Grace purposefully jogged away. He hurriedly placed the supplies he was counting back onto the shelves they belonged on, and headed outside into the twilight to locate Talbert. Minutes later, he spotted him walking with Malarkey to the mess hall.

"Talbert, a word?" Gene called out. Talbert and Malarkey paused, Talbert jogged over and Malarkey waved to Gene and kept walking.

"What's goin' on Doc?" Talbert asked.

"Lieutenant Grant has been temporarily reassigned to an Air Field Hospital. She's leaving soon and she wanted me to tell you", Gene said solemnly.

Talbert narrowed his eyes angrily, "You're shitting me"

"Afraid not, Sergeant".

"First Winters, then Gracie", Tab muttered, his thoughts jumbled.

"Winters?" Doc Roe asked.

Tab nodded his head, "word is Winters is getting a Trial by Court Martial thanks to Sobel".

"You don't say", Gene muttered. "Also – Grace wanted you to tell the men. She didn't have time, she was only told an hour ago".

Lieutenant Speirs was walking by the two Easy company men when he overheard the end of their conversation.

"She leave yet?" Tab asked.

Ron heard the words 'she' and 'leave' and put it together immediately. Rounding on the two, he addressed them hastily.

"Sergeant Talbert", he barked.

"Yes sir", Tab said, saluting.

Quickly returning the salute, Ron continued, "Lieutenant Grant is leaving tonight?"

"Yes sir; temporary transfer to an air field hospital".

His eyes turned onto the medic, "She already leave?"

"No sir, should be soon though", Gene answered. Without another word, Ron stalked off in the direction of the officer's barracks.

Sharing a knowing glance with Gene, Tab spoke again, "I'm gonna go tell the guys". Gene nodded at him, watching him run off to the mess hall.

Breathing hard, Grace was shoving things gingerly into her duffel bag. Her mind was working a thousand times a minute, counting the seconds and jumping at every sound – anticipating the jeep coming to get her.

"Grace", she looked up to see Ron standing in the doorway of Easy Company's officer's room. His eyes darted down to her bag then back to her face, "temporary transfer?"

Grace nodded curtly, turning away from Ron's prying gaze – collecting her anger at the situation. She was hoping to get out without seeing anyone, especially him. She needed to keep it together, she could feel the icy wall trying to make its way into her heart. She embraced the feeling – wishing rather to feel nothing while she was at the hospital than really let anything affect her.

"I'll be back before the jump", she said, pulling her bag together. She turned to him then, taking in his form in his OD's. She raked over his face with her greedy gaze; his olive eyes, his tousled hair, perfect pout, thrillingly intimidating stance – she drank it up, relying on her memory of _him_ to keep her frequent company at night while at the hospital.

Wondering what she should say to him, she felt awkward, feeling like she should apologize for his trouble, feeling like this was a goodbye, feeling like things would be different if she did indeed return before the jump.

"Captain Sobel thinks this is a good time?" He asked quietly.

"I asked him something similar. He responded by saying he knows about the fight in the pub with the private from my old platoon", Grace said, watching him furrow his brow.

"You think he is punishing you?"

"If you've ever been to a field hospital, you'd _know_ it was a punishment". At his silence, Grace walked to her foot locker and took out an almost-full bottle of Vat 69 and crossed the room to the bunk across from hers. She slipped the bottle under the pillow and turned to Ron to clarify, "a goodbye present for Lew".

Silence greeting her again, she walked to her bag to double check that she had everything she needed. Ron studied her, finding the hairline fractures on her careful, typically immaculate wall she carried around herself. He could plainly see she was worried about what she'd endure at the hospital. It dawned on him then – she was upset at what memories might haunt her, what she might uncover that she once thought was put away.

What horrors had she experienced before that had her this worried, anxious, visibly shaken?

Ron immediately felt inadequate. Without any combat experience, how could he help her? After he made the jump, he'd know – but that certainly didn't help him now. He felt the pressure in the air around him, making him feel awkward, standing there, unable to help her, to be of use. Watching her lithe, feminine frame move about the room, he quickly grew angry at the abstract circumstance that drove her here, to this. The feral beast inside him growled thinking of her in harm's way. The natural instinct to protect her was overwhelming, and for the first time since he'd seen her, Ron thought the following: she should not be here.

Uncomfortable with Ron's continual silence, Grace busied her hands, her heart pounding, still anticipating the sound of the jeep, trying to keep her eyes away from the clock. She wanted nothing more than to embrace Ron, without thought or hesitation. She wondered if she'd ever drop the act – if _they_ would ever stop the 'dance' they're doing around one another. Sure, the big jump coming made it all seem trivial and their 'dance' pointless in general. But there would always be another jump, another battle. Did that mean this 'dance' was indefinite? That these feelings she had stored up for Ron would accumulate within her until the enemy surrendered? These feelings would surely overwhelm her eventually. Clenching her jaw and acknowledging a forming headache, Grace knew she was too stubborn, proud, and scared of getting rejected to be the first to act.

Since the moment his strong arms wound themselves around her waist and pulled her close to his chest in that pub all those months ago, she felt they'd been in a bubble – and her departure would burst it. She wanted him to see all of her, but also none of her; to be struck, dazzled by the bits but blinded to the whole. She yearned for him to see her whole and not in pieces as she was now. She certainly had hopes that were hard to satisfy. Doubt, buried within her heart, flitted up – surfaced like a lonely piece of wood, only a hint to the shipwreck below. She wasn't like any other women at home, she'd seen things, done things; would he want her?

She pondered what happened when you offered yourself to someone and they opened you, only to discover you were not the gift they expected – and they had to smile and nod and say 'thank you' all the same.

Hearing a jeep pull up and a horn sound outside, Grace turned to Ron. He walked up to her purposefully and held her gaze, stopping within inches of her. Grace's heart threw itself desperately, almost painfully against her ribs – both out of Ron's nearness and her departure.

"I _will_ be back before the jump", Grace said again, looking into his eyes. She was afraid of these feelings that made her suddenly wonder who she was, what she was going to be in this world, and why she was here. Ron's eyes held hers, unwavering. "I'm afraid I'll be broken when I come back to you", she breathed in a whisper.

Ron's stomach dropped at her vulnerability, his hand came up to grab hers, faltered in the air and slipped back to his side unnoticed by Grace, "You make yourself strong because it's expected of you. You become confident because someone beside you is unsure", her absorbent eyes searched his, becoming centered, "you turn into the person others need you to be", he finished quietly.

Her dark hazel eyes openly soaked in his face, "what if that's who you become?"

"Then that's who you were meant to be", he whispered fervently to her.

The jeep honked again, and Ron immediately picked up her bag and went to the door, Grace followed. He held to door open for her and followed her outside, memorizing her gait, the set of her shoulders, the redness of her auburn hair, the pale skin of her neck.

Walking to the jeep, he set her bag inside the back and held out his hand to help her in the passenger seat.

"Thank you, Ron", Grace said, holding his gaze, taking his hand and getting into the jeep.

Ron squeezed her small hand, jaw clenched, "Grace", he said quietly in parting.

Grace kept her eyes on him as the jeep pulled away and she knew in her heart that she loved Ron as certain dark things are loved: in secret, between the shadow and the soul; but when would the curtains of this secret be pulled apart, shedding light and truth on them? Moreover, would she be the same person when they inevitably did?

**Please, please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

A huge, gigantic THANK YOU to all who keep adding me to their alerts and reviewing! It mean so, so much to me to hear what you're all thinking and feeling about what's going on! Keep it up – it makes my day.

For some reason, this chapter was SO HARD for me to write. No idea why. Please keep telling me what you are thinking! I love hearing it, it makes writing so much easier!

December 25th, 1943

Early in the morning the halls of hospital were quiet, this wasn't unusual, not after the night Grace had seen. There had been a push of wounded sailors off a submarine. Grace had the remnants of a throbbing headache as evidence of a strenuous evening. Nearing the end of the hall, her steps slowed and came to a full stop at the double doors at the end.

In the two months she had been here, Grace had managed to avoid this room.

Her stomach in knots and taking a shallow breath, Grace silently pushed the door and stepped over the threshold. Her eyes took in the room calmly and landed on the wall that had not been there the last time she was here. She shut her eyes to the oncoming images of it blown out, her father under rubble, people yelling. Moving one foot in front of the other almost robotically, Grace made her way to the wall. She sat down on the floor, pressed her back against it and brought her hands up to her face.

Whispering into her hands, she felt her throat grow tight, "I miss you Dad and I miss you Chuck. Happy Christmas".

January 1944

Gracie-girl,

Happy New Year! I know you're wondering so I'll get it out now: the boys are healthy, but they're miserable without you. Talbert and Luz, Malarkey, Guarnere, and Liebgott especially; Harry and Buck aren't as chipper without you here either. You can count me in that pool too.

I missed you at Christmas. Although I haven't gotten any letters from you, I trust you're getting mine. Thank you for the flask at Christmas. You're one hell of a scrounger, Angel, to have found one with rationing and all.

I know I'm cutting this letter short, but I've filled pages the past couple months with no reply. Just let me know that you're alright. With those simple words I'd be able to get a certain Lieutenant off my back.

Yours always, Lew

Angel!

The boys and I are sitting together to write you – so we're all going to write a little something for you. But from all of us – THANK YOU for the smokes (and cigar for Bull) for Christmas. We're trying to get you back to us, Grace. Hang tough, we're thinking of you. Miss you – Tab

Gracie – thinking of me? Miss me? I miss you, kid. Drop us a line when you can so we know how you are. Yours – George

Hope you're ok – I've heard some nutty things about those hospitals. We miss your pretty face (Sparky is going nuts without you). Come back soon, Easy needs you. Love, Malark

You better come back soon Gracie girl – the boys are at each other's necks without you here. You're going to have a whole company on your back if you're not taking care of yourself. Miss you – Buck

Hey lucky Irish girl, I miss your voice, even if it's always busting my balls. We need you back here, leave it to us boys – we'll find a way – Will Bill

Angel, come back soon – I'm starting to forget that smile of yours. Joe

Dear Grace,

How are you? I hope you're fairing well. There's been no word from you – I'm sure you're quite the asset to the hospital; they are certainly lucky to have you. Thank you for the binoculars at Christmas, I was surprised you remembered I needed some.

I've grown accustom to your daily presence and must admit that without you here, the days blend into one another. I'm sharing night guard duty with a nervous private from I Company. Needless to say, the conversation is less than stimulating and the view is lacking entirely.

I look forward to your return,

Ron

February 1944

Moving from one patient to the next in the general room, Grace briskly walked to the next bed, checking the chart.

"I know you", the deep voice from the bed spoke up to her.

Frowning slightly, Grace turned to him and was taken aback, "Lieutenant Cahill". Grace was surprised to see her old Lieutenant from her time with the British.

"Last time I saw you, you were dragging me back to our line with a bullet in your shoulder", he said.

"That's true. I was happy to hear you recovered", she looked him over, "but I see you couldn't stay away from this place".

"Minor shrapnel in the leg", he answered curtly, looking curiously at her. "I'm surprised you're here in a hospital, though I am not surprised to see you as a Lieutenant".

"Temporary transfer, I'm with the 506th, 101st Airborne", Grace said.

"American paratrooper", he smirked and Grace remembered why she had once found him handsome, "I bet you fit right in, Grant".

"Been with them since '42, right after I left – hole in the shoulder and all", she said smiling slightly.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, "they're lucky to have you, even if you yanks haven't gone into action yet, they'll learn soon enough".

Grace smiled at him again, "Thank you, sir."

"No 'sir' needed".

Grace nodded her head, "how long are you here?"

Cahill smiled, "Not much longer." He eyed her with an intense blue gaze, "you are certainly a sight for sore eyes".

Grace smirked, "how much medication are you on?"

Two days later, Lieutenant Cahill was transferred to a recovery clinic hours away. Grace didn't realize how wonderful the distraction of his brief presence had been. She saw him once a day and they would trade stories. It made her miss the boys; the banter, the teasing. She had to admit seeing Cahill, remembering her past attraction towards him ignited an intense longing for Ron. She was happy Cahill was healthy, that they could make peace with their past – but she had to curse him a bit; her nights were longer now with Ron fresh in her mind.

March 1944

Grace was changing, she could feel it; physically, she felt her weight loss. Her OD's hung limply off of her body. She'd been stubborn and refused to wear the nurse whites; she's a Lieutenant for Christ's sake, she'd earned that and she'd rather be addressed as 'Lieutenant' than 'nurse'. Her sleep schedule was right back to the way it was when she was in North Africa: nonexistent.

She didn't make friends, the young nurses were at the hospital an average of two to three weeks. They all quickly requested transfers. The doctors at the hospital were all visiting doctors. There was absolutely no constant element apart from Grace. It was lonely.

Every night, Grace wrote to the boys, Lewis, and Ron. She turned them over to the mailroom every morning and never got a response.

April 1944

Tick…..tick….tick….tick…..tick…..tick…..tick

The clock on the wall in Grace's room had somehow gotten louder tonight. Not even the heavy rain outside could drown out the ticking. Not that the leftovers in the bottle of Vat she found and drained helped her find sleep either.

Turning over in her bed, in her small single room, Grace also tried to block out her thoughts. Typically, the days and dates ran into one another; the only time she looked at the clock or wrote down the date was when she had to record it after men died, but today was different, _today_ she knew the date. April 20th. Ron's birthday.

She wondered about what he was doing, how he was doing, if he was ready for the jump. Deep down, Grace was terrified Sobel had somehow managed to get her out of the 101st for good. She could not let the boys, Lewis, and Ron do this without her. She had lost her real family, but she had gained another in Easy. She was swallowing the intense feeling of abandonment every day, not willing to accept that that was happening.

Why hadn't she heard anything from any of them? Lewis even. It had been six months since she left, and nothing. No word. The familiar suffocating feeling was winding its way around her neck again and she felt a warm tear fall down back into her hair. She was having a selfish and pathetic moment, she knew, but she couldn't help but think she hadn't been embraced, hugged in those six months. Drinking alone had a way of making it ok for Grace to feel sorry for herself, she knew because she had practiced it often.

Grace's thoughts drifted again in full force towards Ron and she took a breath as the image of his face clouded her mind. She had managed to capture his image perfectly in her imagination. Unfortunately her imagination couldn't conjure up the sound of his velvet voice, but that did not stop her from trying.

Another thing Vat did: make the absence in Grace's heart grow larger.

Her brain, having been marinating in whiskey, went into autopilot and threw Grace into her regular nighttime fantasy:

_Ron's warm arms slipped around her waist and pulled her in. The thin emerald silk of her dress left little between her skin and his. _

_ "You look stunning tonight, Grace", it's the first time he used her first name. Gripping her waist tighter, he gazed down on her with ferocity._

_Grace felt her cheeks warm, knowing without looking that the pub full of US soldiers were watching. Looking up at Ron, she studied his face; strong jaw, so close she could see the slight stubble, his sun-kissed skin, how the green of his eyes matched the green of his uniform so perfectly. Her breathing sped up as his eyes fell onto her. Brazenly, she kept her eyes on him, his warm breath tickling her lips. _

_ "You should walk me home, Ron", she whispered and she swore his olive eyes grew darker._

_Suddenly, she was outside her old billet she was stationed at while in Aldbourne. Taking in the blackened windows, she knew the older couple who lived there were out for the night. She could feel Ron's hand mold its way around hers as she gazed towards the front door._

_ "Care for a drink?" she said, feeling high from his eyes on her._

_Without speaking and keeping his eyes on her, Ron gripped her hand tighter and opened the door, leading her in. Before she could ask what he'd like to drink, Ron's lips were on hers. Grace ran her hands up his chest, gripping the lapels of his wool dress greens; feeling his hand grip her waist and one came up and cupped her face and neck. _

Grace had spent many sleepless nights wishing that she had kissed him before she left. At least then she would know how it felt, not testing the limits of her imagination trying to dream it up in vain. She was certain her imagination was failing her, if she ever had the chance to compare.

_What if he's moved on?_ Grace asked herself, ruining the mood she'd set for herself. She wondered if, in his absence, she had hallucinated what was between them. Every day when the mail clerk came around, her heart sped up painfully – it's not that she expected a letter from Ron, but hearing nothing broke her heart.

May 1st, 1944

"We've got a big push coming in!" One of the intake nurses yelled out to the others as she ran inside.

Grace made her way towards the young blonde nurse. Grace never had the chance to learn any names, these nurses were transferred out so frequently because they couldn't take the environment. "What do we have?"

"A whole company of navy men and a slew of pilots", the nurse looked distressed.

"You'll be ok – remember your training", as head of Intake, Grace addressed the group quickly, "Get your markers out; 'M' for Needs Morphine, 'S' for Stable, 'F' for fatal. You know the drill." The doors were thrown open by field medics and Grace ran to the doors to meet them, immediately taken back by their numbers, "what's the situation?" She barked out at the medic near her.

"Lieutenant, a whole carrier ship off the coast was hit by torpedoes. We've got everything from burns to missing limbs." He answered.

Grace nodded and began throwing orders out at the nurses behind her.

She ran to the first man she saw, "Where are you hit?" Not getting an answer, she saw the shrapnel wound to his side. She went to his other side and pulled his arm around her shoulders and helped him into the foyer and marked an 'M' on his forehead. After getting him to a bed, she ran back out.

Nearing thirty hours later, Grace and other doctors had stabilized the last patient. The early morning hour cast a blue glow over the landscape, Grace gazed out the window in the hallway and wondered about Easy company. They would be getting up in the next few hours for PT and drill. Her heart stuttered at the thought of her men, her brothers. Had it really been six months?

This was the first second Grace had had to herself, up until the last minute she'd been in surgery after surgery. The last man she had been beside held her hand desperately as he slipped away. Quickly saying a 'Hail Mary' to herself, she turned towards her room, ready to grab a couple hours of shut-eye.

"Lieutenant Grant?" Grace turned to the voice, one of the new nurses they'd received that day was calling her. "There's a man here for you, up at the front".

It took Grace a full minute before she understood the words. Heavy with exhaustion, Grace nodded her thanks and began walking towards to foyer. Suddenly, her breath hitched – what if it's Sobel's runner, here to give her an official discharge? What if it's Lewis? What if it's Ron? She paused at the swinging doors to the front and attempted to smooth out her hair, pushing curls back into her bun and looked at her stained hands and sighed. Shoving her weight on the doors, she walked through and spotted a blonde man waiting for her. She spotted the screaming eagle on his shoulder and his rank of Corporal.

"Lieutenant Grant?" He asked, his eyes raking over her.

"Yes Corporal", she was too tired to flinch at the hoarseness of her voice.

" I am under direct orders from Colonel Sink and Major Strayor to collect you and your effects and bring you immediately to Upottery Air Field".

Grace was silent for a second, "Upottery?"

"Yes ma'am, that's where the 506th is – preparing for the jump".

Relief almost pushed her over, "I'm going back?" She whispered.

The corporal heard her, "Yes – yes, you are".

Bumping along the rough road in the jeep, Grace sighed, her face turned upward toward the sky. The early morning was cold and although Grace hadn't slept in days, there was no nodding off with the slight drizzle tapping her skin. Holding her hand up to her face, she watched the cold water collect in the palm of her hand, making a pink pool from the dried blood it gathered.

Grace wondered about the reception she might get. Would they treat her differently? Do they even know she's coming back? Her stomach was in knots as their jeep began passing more and more military vehicles.

Goodbyes are certainly painful, but returns are surely worse. Would she be a disappointment? Solid flesh cannot live up to the bright shadow cast by its absence. Time and distance blur the edges; then suddenly, she arrives? In the merciless, harsh light of moring, every spot and pore and wrinkle and bristle stood clear.

The jeep slowed to a stop and Grace kept her face forward as she stepped out.

Lewis,

This is the hundredth attempt at writing to you. How are you? How are Dick, Harry, and Buck? How are they boys? I haven't heard anything from anyone since I got here – nothing, Lew. Please tell me all is well, I'm losing touch with reality. I hope you all got my Christmas presents. I went to the local village to send them – the hospital only takes letters. If this gets to you, tell the boys I'm alright.

Praying I'll hear from you, Love,

Gracie

Floyd, George, Malarkey, Bill, and Joe – Forgive me for this being so short, I'm between surgeries and I had to write before the last mail run of the day. Have you boys gone to war without me? I haven't heard anything from the lot of you. I hope I'll see you soon. Give Easy my regards, I miss you all terribly. All my love – Angel

Ron,

Either my letters aren't being sent or my identity has been erased – for I have not heard any news in the months I've been away. I hope you're well. I also hope you received the package I sent for Christmas. I saw them, completely abandoned and I couldn't have some private nicking them up. The hospital is bleak – reminders around every corner. I hope I find my way back to you soon.

Grace

Every morning, noon, and night Ron's eyes sought her out on instinct. It had been months and still, they search. They say 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone' and that could not be a truer statement. He never took her for granted, but her absence was a blinding force that took him by surprise.

_I miss her_, he thought, gripping his binoculars and clenching his jaw. How could he let himself feel this much? They haven't even kissed – barely touched. Ron swallowed thickly, he of course had thought very carefully about he would go about touching her given the opportunity.

He hoped dearly that she was alright; she had been scared before she left. _She'd seen worse_, he thought – she had been in combat, had fired her weapon, had been fired upon and hit. Ron shook his head at that – something deep within him wanted her safe so desperately. If she was ever hurt in his presence – _STOP_, he told himself, concentrating on the rising sun on the cool morning. He pushed the thought of Grace hurt away. _Don't dwell, don't stay in that place too long_.

"Lieutenant Speirs, sir", Ron turned toward to private who relieved him of night duty every morning.

Nodding curtly at him, Ron walked briskly back to camp, a ghost of a smirk on his features as the private quickly stepped out of his way. Ron had worked hard on establishing an iron clad reputation. To his delight, it took brilliantly – to everyone but Grace.

Stopping once he was in camp and lighting a cigarette, Ron looked up and exhaled, and almost choked on the swirling smoke. Through the dissipating haze, stood Grace, getting out of a jeep.

**I know this is a bit short – forgive me for the late update. This was a hard one to get out for some reason. PLEASE REVIEW! In the next chapter, we drop on France.**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

A BIG thank you to **abitron2000 **for reviewing! Your review made my day, seriously – thank you so much. I'd PM you – but I'm still trying to figure out how to do that from my account. Haha.

So I know I said we'd be jumping into France this chapter, but it got away from me…..NEXT chapter, we go. Please let me know how you're receiving the story so far….I like, but it's nice to hear from my readers.

April 29, 1944

"We lost Winters to a Battalion mess", Lipton seethed, walking past Talbert into an old barn on the outskirts of Upottery.

"You've got to be kidding me", Tab said, his eyes snapping to Bill.

"Goddamn", Bill muttered under his breath.

"Anyone speak to Nixon?" Bull asked the group of NCO's, taking their seats around a battered barn table littered with coke bottles and coffee mugs.

"I did", Johnny Martin said, looking grimly at the men then focusing his attention to his cold coffee.

"Any word on her?" Tab asked.

Martin shook his head, "No. In fact, her transfer papers just reached Sink's desk yesterday."

"Colonel Sink didn't know Grace was gone?" Lip asked visibly bothered.

"Nixon said Sobel did it himself, then held onto her papers", Martin concluded.

"That 'aint right", Bill declared, glaring around the table, "we've gatta do something".

"We'd all be better be clear of the consequences", Lip intoned.

"Screw consequences", Bill growled.

Lip cut him off, "we could lined up against a wall and shot", he eyed the men, "now I'm ready to face that. Are you?"

Bill spoke in a low voice with a pointed manner, "I will not follow that man into combat".

Looking hard at each man and seeing a determined look in their eyes, Lip nodded, "Alright, let's do this."

All of them picking up their pencils and paper, Bill dictated, "I hereby no longer wish to serve as a non-commissioned officer in Easy Company", their pencils all scratched furiously as each man signed their names.

The group of men left Colonel Sink's headquarters later that day in a hurry. Placing their garrison caps back on outside, the firmly saluted Lieutenant Winters who was standing at a supply truck nearby. Tab knew the only reason they were alive was because the Army couldn't spare a man – but he saw the bigger picture and knew the only way they would get home from the war would be if they were without Sobel.

"So I see Sink left you in one piece", George said good naturedly, though eyeing him and the others posture.

"More or less", Tab responded, "Harris is being transferred and Ranney got busted down to private."

George whistled, "not too bad considering".

"Anything's worth getting Gracie and Winters back with Easy, Luz", Bill said strongly behind Tab.

"I was up at Battalion HQ with supplies earlier", Malarkey said, "I heard Sink laying into some poor sap about some paper he just received that was from November. I heard him say 'Lieutenant Grant' and 'how long', then out walks Sobel's runner with his tail between his legs".

"Nixon said Sobel held onto her transfer papers", Tab said.

"No shit", Muck said, astounded – sharing a glance with Joe Toye.

"Got a ton of mail for you guys!", Private Vest said aloud, coming into their tent, his arms full.

Joe Liebgott picked up one of the numerous letters, "this is from hospital Gracie is at".

"Yeah – one of Sobel's runners had a huge box full of them, practically threw them at me just now", Vest said.

"Let me see this", Buck grabbed a handful, "they're _all_ from Grace." The boys descended on Vest immediately, grabbing bunches and yelling each other's names out.

"Hey what about these?" Frank Perconte asked Vest who had a giant handful with him still.

"These are for the other officers", Vest replied, pulling out a small stack for Buck and ducking out of the noisy tent. Vest found Nixon, Welsh, and Winters without problem over the next day. The only man who had a healthy stack still waiting for him was Lieutenant Ronald Speirs.

May 1, 1944

Vest was up early this morning. More and more paperwork was being pushed through last minute with the impending jump. Hearing from one of Dog Company's NCO's, he knew to find Speirs outside at this hour; he had to get this stack of letters off of him otherwise he'd misplace them for certain. The intimidating man was a First Lieutenant, and why he volunteered for night duty, Vest had no idea.

Making his way past the quietly rustling tents, he came to a clearing and found Speirs lighting a cigarette. Letting a lone jeep pass him, Vest crossed the makeshift road and approached Speirs.

"Lieutenant Speirs, sir", Vest saluted. No response. Vest looked up to see Speirs cough lightly on his smoke, his eyes squinted ahead of Vest.

Vest turned to look over his shoulder, following Speirs piercing gaze – and saw Easy's missing Lieutenant, Grace Grant, climbing out of the jeep that past.

Vest continued, "these are for you, sir, they're overdue".

Speirs turned his gaze on Vest, taking the stack of letters from him. Vest watched Speirs' eyes tighten as he flipped through the stack, seeing his name written in the same hand dozens of times over on every envelope. Saluting, Ron dismissed Vest.

Absently, Ron's left hand gripped the thick stack of letters from Grace as the other went to his side pocket, bypassed his cigarettes and held the new compass he had in his possession since December. She wrote to him, dozens of times? Ron wanted to do many things at once – run to her and embrace her, yell at the jeep driver for not grabbing her bag before her, scream at Sobel for making her go in the first place, persuade her to stay in England and not jump, beg her to never leave him again. Before he could make up his reeling mind, he took in her appearance – he could plainly see that she wasn't quite herself; her hair hung limply in the bun at the nape of her neck, her shoulders were off like she was trying to make herself smaller, her OD's were littered with stains of dried blood. To Ron, it looked like she had been ripped away mid-surgery and drug here.

Silently struggling with himself, the air vacated his lungs abruptly as he watched her walk briskly inside the officers barracks with her bag weighing her down, without so much as a glance around her. She was like the moon, Ron thought to himself, part of her was always hidden away from him; would he ever breach her walls – would she ever allow him? Her letters turning into an anvil in his hand in that moment, he walked to the officers barracks and entered quietly to find his room to read her letters and let her collect herself without him.

Grace made it into her room. The bed that was hers was made up and untouched, save for the pile of letters and a few small packages in the middle of her bed.

"Sobel had his runner hold all of your mail".

Grace's head whipped around to the soft, deep voice, "Lew", she whispered. She ran to him and threw her arms around his shoulders.

"We just got our letters yesterday", Lew whispered as Grace gripped him tighter, "hi Gracie".

"Lew", she said again, softer – to Lewis' relief, he heard a small smile in her voice.

Hours later, surrounded by open letters and small belated Christmas gifts, Grace woke up to the sound of falling rain. She took a deep breath – so thankful to be back. The richness of the rain always made Grace feel safe and protected; she always considered the rain to be healing, a blanket – the comfort of a friend. Without at least some rain in any given day, or at least a cloud or two on the horizon, she felt overwhelmed by the information of sunlight and she yearned for the vital, muffling gift of falling water.

Sitting up, she looked at the clock – eight pm. Smiling, she knew the boys would be gathered somewhere playing poker or craps. She was glad Lew had managed to keep them away so she could sleep. Stiffly stretching, she noticed a blanket had been placed over her. Strange, she remembered donning a clean pair of OD's after she showered but no blanket. Before contemplating it further, she noticed a small note clutched in her hand, she must have fallen asleep while reading.

She unfolded the paper: "It looks like you found your way back to me – Ron".

Grace's heart stuttered back to life. Standing up and stretching more, she ran her fingers through her hair and decided she needed a haircut – badly.

"You're counting cards Alex, it's as simple as that", Buck said, smiling.

"Penk is not smart enough for that, Muck here is helping him", Malarkey said, throwing a cigarette Skip's way.

"Just having a good night", Alex Penkala said, laying his cards down, "two pair".

The table full of Easy company men groaned, all but one.

"Full house boys", Floyd Talbert said, unable to hold back his grin. George patted him on the back and the rest of the table threw the pot of money at him, groaning and whistling good-naturedly.

"New game, throw in your dough!" Bill said, handing the deck to Toye.

"Deal in two more, would ya Toye?" Joe Liebgott said, entering the tent.

"Two? You brought a date with ya Lieb?" Perconte yelled.

Joe smirked, "you could say that Frank", he turned to the open door of the tent.

Walking in with a big smile, her hair now brushing her shoulders playfully, was Grace.

"Grace!" Tab yelled, lunging forward and grabbing her around the waist.

The rest of the men were on their feet instantaneously, surrounding Grace – they were all smiles and cheers, the feeling of completion all around them.

"Hi Floyd", Grace said softly to Tab, her arms around his neck. She smiled as he set her down and George grabbed her, kissing her on the cheek.

"Hey Angel", George said in her ear, "don't ever leave us again, huh?"

"I won't Luzzy", she smiled into the crook of his neck.

"Quit hoggin' her!" Bill said yanking Grace into a hug and kissing her on her other cheek.

"Hit me right here Gracie", Malarkey said, tapping his cheek.

Grace laughed and pecked him on the spot, "Hi Don".

After greeting all the men in the group, they settled into another round of poker.

"I like the hair, Angel", Tab said, tugging lightly on a lock.

She smirked, "Thanks Tab. Joe did it for me, it was getting too long".

"It suits you", George said from her other side.

Grace looked up to the group of men around her; they were checking their cards, talking , joking casually. She watched Bull light another cigar for himself then lean over to light Joe's cigarette. Joe looked up and winked at her.

"Thank you for your letters", Grace said over the table – her heart warm in her chest; partially from Buck's flask but mostly due to the men surrounding her; the idle chatter slowed a bit, the men looking at her smiling, winking. She smiled, contented, "I'm going to turn in boys", she said. A resounding 'Good night Gracie' followed and she winked to them in parting.

"I'll walk you?" Tab said beside her. Grace smiled and nodded.

"Night George", Grace kissed him on the cheek as she got up and he grinned at her.

"Sweet dreams Gracie", he said, "you sure know how to make a guy feel special".

Walking to her barracks, Tab spoke, "Sobel kept your mail".

"I know, Lew told me", she paused, "thank you for the pocket flashlight, it'll come in handy".

He smiled and put his arm around her shoulders, "don't mention it. We're happy to have you back – _I'm_ happy to have you back. It was terrible without you".

"I heard about what you and the other NCO's did. It would have been terrible if I came back and you all were shot", she chided softly, "that was a hell of a brave thing to do. Thank you Floyd".

"We had to", he said simply. Reaching the barracks he spoke again, "you ok? You know you can tell me anything".

Grace nodded, "I know, and I will – as soon as I put some distance between, you know?"

He smiled, "I know. Night Grace."

"Night Floyd". Grace walked in and stood in the dark of the barracks for a few minutes. She crept back outside after ten minutes went by and made her way into the dark to the corners of the camp where she knew he would be.

In the inky blackness of the field she could still spot his motionless form – the small lit tip of his cigarette was a beacon to her. As she neared silently, she heard his movements stop suddenly.

"Flash", she whispered, her heart hammering in her ears.

"Thunder", he breathed out, his cigarette falling mutely to the ground.

She didn't know which to follow: her heart or her head; to grab him like she wanted or to simply nod and say hello, dignity intact. She combined the two to form an intimate greeting.

"I knew I'd find you here", she said softly, her eyes raking in broad shoulders. She watched his eyes take her in, search her face…search for words. She smiled softly, "thank you for your letters, I got them all today".

"I'm sure they weren't enough…" Ron stopped himself; he could never find the right words for her, "it was hard to write them, knowing what you were going through and just _knowing_ they were not enough to make it better".

Grace opened her mouth to speak but didn't know what to say. Resolving again to go with a little intimacy she spoke, "your words were perfect". She kept her eyes on his. Reminding herself to breathe, "I found my way back to you". Something flashed I his eyes then and he brought his hand to the pocket where Grace knew he kept his cigarettes.

Ron knew it was now or never, "I have something for you."

Her eyes appeared larger to him in the dark, "you do?", she whispered.

He nodded, "I've had it since December – I needed to give it to you in person".

He pulled out the small, intricate compass attached to a long, delicate chain. He walked towards Grace and slipped it over her head.

Holding the compass out to her, he spoke, "so you will _always_ find your way back to me".

Grace regarded him with intense, emotional eyes as she lifted the pendant with one hand and firmly held his hand with the other. They stood together, their hands entwining, embracing one another's in comfortable, yet intimate silence throughout the night, and they stayed that way until the beginnings of dawn's pink streaks colored the sky.

**I know it's a little short, I needed to get this 'reunion' out before the jump so it wasn't so rushed.**

**NEXT – the invasion of Europe …and the rollercoaster really begins.**

**Please review, I will love you forever.**


	11. Chapter 11

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

THANK YOU to abitron2000, mockingbird914 , mockingbird914 and Horsesareamazing for your reviews! It means so much to me, you'll never know. Keep it up Thank you for all your patience! This was another hard chapter to write. Excuse my 'German', you get the idea.

"Entertainers and newsmen on a deadline can talk all they want to about tension, but they wouldn't know tension if you dipped it in a bucket of water and hit them in the face with it – unless they had to spend five days in a marshaling area, waiting to start the invasion of Europe.

The only comparable sensation would be those last five days in the death house, when everybody is quiet and considerate and they feed you well and let you sleep late and write letters and give you little favors and comforts. The chaplain comes around to see you, the warden makes a speech, and maybe you write a letter to your mother. If you have one and she still cares. Or you write to your girlfriend, who is probably going steady with someone else by now, as ours were.

Finally, there isn't anything more to do. You eat your last meal and put on your clothes and walk down the corridor to the big flash. You go out of the world the same way you came in: surrounded by people and utterly alone."

David Webster

June 4th, 1944

Grace ran a finger lightly down the small pink scar on her left shoulder. Entering a fight again – the last time she was in it, she'd gotten the scar, over two years ago. Buttoning up her BDU shirt, she studied her face in the mirror. How long would it be until she saw herself next? How caked in dirt and blood would she be? Would she have a new scar to accompany the old one? Who would still be with them, who would not? Would _he_ be there – with her? Would he still want her if he was?

Grace allowed these forbidden thoughts – this would be the last time to be alone with them. She dropped her dog tags under her shirt and clutched the small compass he had given her, just over one month ago.

"So you'll always find your way back to me", Grace whispered. She practically had to remind herself that that had happened between them. Squeezing her eyes shut, she could recall that morning perfectly, it was the last time they had spoken:

_The sun had begun to slowly stretch itself across the sky, softly illuminating the morning frost on the grass of the fields surrounding Upottery. Grace looked down to her hand, still entwined around his. It had been a few hours that his hand found hers, but actually seeing his tan fingers woven with her pale skin had her heart pounding. _

_Like a bitter bite after a sweet swing of Champagne, the joy she felt at touching him like this and having him touch her, was tarnished with the invasion looming over them. She brought her eyes up to his face; the look he gave her – all her thoughts were mirrored in his olive drab eyes._

_They stared at one another, neither spoke a word – but both were aware of the stream that had no language, coursing beneath the quiet gaze of their eyes. Like a spell in a child's story, Grace knew deep down that this silent acknowledgment between them would disappear when the sun came up. She felt many things – astonished at how strongly she cared for him, girlish excitement that he felt the same, fortunate that she'd found someone who so resonated with her, and for the first time – resentment; for the job, for the rank, for the jump, for the enemy, for the war – that she feared would tear whatever she had with Ron apart._

_ "I wish I could hate you", he said in a whisper, his mouth curved in an unconcerned half-smile, but his eyes were sick with misery._

_ Grace lightly smiled at how well she understood, "I know", she whispered back._

_ "It would be so much easier if I did", his eyes searched hers, "sometimes I tried, but then I looked at you…" he trailed off._

_ "Hate is one-sided", Grace mused, "but this…" she couldn't finish, she didn't want to assign cheap words to the profoundness that she felt, for they would be inadequate. _

_ "I know", he offered, squeezing her hand._

_Grace's heart pounded so heavily, she could feel it in her head. The silence was weighted with so many things – the most obvious one to them both being the forbidden and unrealistic nature of their 'relationship'. Grace kept her eyes steady on his – _don't make me say this_, she thought._

_ Ron was searching her face, almost frantically, "we can't do this", he said in a hushed voice. Grace's heart fell through her body and she swiftly swallowed a gasp._

_ Hearing it was far worse than she had ever imagined, "I know, Ron", Grace managed to get out in a whisper. "I know", she held his hand tighter, trying to imprint the warmth of his skin onto her mind._

_Ron held her gaze solidly, their hands grasping one another's in desperation. _

Grace's heart constricted remembering his eyes on her, his voice directed towards her. Since that morning, they hadn't spoken to one another – only threw their eyes onto one another when they thought the other wasn't looking. It was the smartest thing to do, really. They were dropping into a war tonight, Grace couldn't have him clouding her mind.

But wasn't he clouding her mind as it was?

Alone in the tent, she held up the small pocket mirror Lewis lent her. Privacy was scarce in the service, and for Grace this single private moment was priceless. She was a Lieutenant, she would walk out of the tent with a brave and confident face and be preset for the men. Here, while alone, it was her chance to put herself away – the vulnerable parts, so that she could do her job.

Grace dipped her fingers into the pot of soot and grease, tilted her face to the side, and slid her fingers down her cheek. She exhaled slowly, and with each careful and deliberate stroke she made, she sealed a piece of her heart shut – to keep it safe, to put her head in the right place.

Stroke…..Lewis will be safe.

Stroke…..George and Floyd will look out for one another.

Stroke….she would be there for all of the men; with her whole heart and soul.

Stroke….Ron will make his way back to her.

Her hand stilled and she admired the curve of her cheek in the mirror, the bow of her lips. Beneath the black paint, she still saw the woman shining out through her eyes. She silently stood up and said a Hail Mary to herself, praying the 'woman' she saw would still be there at the end of all things.

Wiping her hands on a spare cloth, she grabbed her gun and her pack and walked outside, her head held high.

Ron walked through the throng of paratroopers, the complete vision of calm. Inside he was skewed in different directions: confident in himself and his men to get the job done, intent on the objective of their jump, yet feeling incomplete. He felt buoyed but weightless, warm but cold, sick yet healthy. What he felt for Grace left him vulnerable, and having acknowledged it to himself and knowing she felt something, left him helpless – and that was not a feeling he was familiar with.

Seeing a private struggling with their pack and leg bag, Ron strode over and yanked up a strap, helping him clasp it.

"Thank you Lieutenant", the private said.

Ron nodded his head and looked up, and saw Grace walking with purpose over to Easy. Ron clenched his jaw and watched her looking every bit like a veteran paratrooper. The more he got to know her, the more he had to remind himself that she had done this before, that she could take care of herself and others, that she knew damn well how to fire her weapon.

The British soldiers stationed at Upottery watched her walk by, catcalling and smirking to one another. Ron's fists clenched but Grace didn't pay attention to them. Ron cursed himself and wondered seriously how long he could just watch her.

"Easy company! Circle up!" Lieutenant Meehan stood upon a jeep and addressed the company. Grace just walked up to the group and stood next to Don Malarkey and Joe Toye.

"What's going on?" She asked.

"We're about to find out", Toye said.

"Coast is flooded with rain and fog", Meehan surveyed the group and Grace knew what was coming next, "no jump tonight".

"You've gatta be kidding me", Don said, exasperated.

"Jesus", Grace said under her breath, scanning the area around her. She saw George and Floyd talking together, Bull chewing his cigar, Joe standing with Skip and Penkala, all their faces stern. She knew the thick tension that had been suffocating them for the last week would last one more night.

Grace turned around and made her way to go find Lewis. She walked back across the field towards the tents and looked to her left. Standing there watching her with squinted eyes and lighting a cigarette was Ron. Her steps faltered slightly under his gaze.

"Grace", Lewis called out to her, making her tear her eyes away from Ron. She smiled lightly, walking to him faster. She looked back to Ron, to find him no longer there.

"Hey Lew", Grace said, deflated.

"I know", Lew said guiltily, leading her into his tent. "I couldn't go out there, I figured one step out there, you'd see me and you'd know right away."

"I knew with or without you", she said, sitting on his cot, "The minute Meehan spoke I knew".

Lew handed her a towel, "I think it'll clear up".

Grace nodded and wiped her face clean of the black streaks, "what pointless activity to they have scheduled to remedy this situation?"

Lew smirked and pulled his flask from his pocket, "movie in the mess tent." He took a swing and handed it to Grace, "I like this remedy better".

Grace chuckled, "the whiskey or my company?"

A few drinks thanks to Lewis later, Lewis went to go find Dick and Grace made her way towards the tent were the movie was showing. Ironic or not, she could use the distraction. She saw a figure exit the tent in a hurry and she immediately recognized them.

"Bill" She said out to him as he walked towards her.

"Hiya Grace", he said quickly, "you seen Martin?"

Grace shook her head, "no, I haven't". She took in his rigid posture and clenched jaw, "are you alright?"

Bill hesitated, "I picked up Johnny's jacket by accident, found this". He thrust a letter to Grace, who took it, watching him carefully.

"What does it say?"

"It's from his wife, she keeps up with news back home", Bill's eyes avoided hers, "my brother got it in fucking Monte Casino, wherever the fuck that is".

Grace's heart dropped, "oh Bill".

"Save it doll, I don't want the sympathy", Bill seethed out.

"Italy".

"Come again?" he said.

"Monte Casino is in Italy", she said to him. He looked up, still irate, "my older brother was shot down by the Krauts three years ago", she started quietly, "I still haven't killed enough to feel better, but that doesn't stop me from trying". She watched as he swallowed thickly and said nothing. She put her arms around his shoulders and pulled him towards her, hugging him. At first, he was unresponsive but then he wound his arms around her waist and squeezed.

Grace knew how he felt. Nothing would ever ease the pain. Like a stone in her pocket, she carried the pain around always. At times, she would forget or get distracted, but without fail, she always put her hand back into her pocket and there it would be.

Bill pulled away with a grunt and cupped her cheek, "you take care of yourself tomorrow Angel". Without waiting for an answer, Bill walked off, putting his garrison cap back on his head.

Grace didn't have the stomach for some stupid movie now, so she walked back to her tent. On her way she passed Perconte and Liebgott.

"Night boys", she said.

"What's the dice, Gracie?" Joe asked.

"No dice, Joe" she said, trying a smile, "see you tomorrow".

Grace kept walking and kept her face forward, wishing her tent were closer. She would want nothing more than to head left and walk right into Ron's tent, and kiss him now that she had the chance, that she had a few more hours to do so.

She stalked into her tent and frustratingly threw her field jacket off and flung herself onto her cot, and fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

After waking up, Ron once again checked and double-checked his supplies and guns like he'd done the day before. From what he heard from intelligence, the jump would most definitely happen tonight. Looking down at his watch, they had about an hour before they would depart the airfield and begin the invasion of Europe.

Walking past Fox Company, he saw one of his NCO's, "Sergeant Riley".

"Yes sir", Riley responded.

"We're about an hour away, are the men ready? Any problems?"

"Yes sir, the men are ready. No problems aside from the leg bags", he said.

Ron nodded, "just make sure they carry what's important on them or on their backs".

"Yes sir".

"See you in an hour, make sure you stay near your stick", Ron said, walking away; he needed to find a pot of grease; he hadn't had the time to paint his face yet.

Making his way past soldiers and locating the supply tent, he saw Grace. She was walking his way. He had been relieved that the jump was postponed. This gave him a chance to say 'goodbye', to make sure she'd be alright. Thinking fast and on pure impulse, he moved to the side quickly and waited as she got near to him. As she passed him, he grabbed her arm, gently pulled her into the supply tent, and silently thanked God that it was completely empty.

He rounded on her and was taken aback; she looked beautiful. On either side of her pale face were three black stripes, her big, dark eyes searched his excitedly and Ron heard her breathing. His mind took a mental picture of her at this moment, and he prayed he would see her again in France.

Ron clenched his jaw and wondered what was the right thing to say, "are you ready for the jump?"

Grace's breath evened out as she realized Ron's hand was still holding her arm, "Yes, I am. I've done this before." She paused, "Are you?"

Ron sighed internally at the sound of her voice; it had been too long since they had spoken, "Yes." He smirked, "did you paint your face yourself?"

Grace smiled fully, and Ron found himself appreciating the dimples on her cheeks, "No, I had help". She pointed to the stripes and named them off, "Talbert, Luz, Liebgott, Malarkey, Guarnere, and Nixon; my friends".

Biting his lip, Ron reached over to the small pot of soot and grease and dipped his finger into it. He turned to Grace again, lifted his finger, and dragged it lightly down the feminine slope of her nose.

"Now I've marked you", he said, watching her eyes flash.

Grace was reeling, having realized that she and Ron were alone in an empty tent and he was standing very near to her; _had Christmas come early this year?_ "You don't have any on". She said, her fingers brushing his purposefully as she took the soot from him.

She dipped all her fingers, apart from her pinky's into the pot. She gently set it down and looked up at Ron who was intently watching her. Closing the short distance between them, her hands came up to either side of his face. She kept her eyes on his as her fingers stroked down his handsome face, the stubble on his cheeks brushing her sensitive skin. Her hands stopped on his jaw and she felt his warm breath on her lips.

"You're marked as mine", she whispered, not meaning for him to hear, but the way his eyes darkened considerably, she knew he had.

His dark eyes dropped to her lips and something deep within her tugged erotically, and she bit her lip as a reaction. Ron's hands softly ran up the small of her back and he dipped his head to hers, capturing her lips.

Grace suppressed a gasp as she tilted her head to meet him. His left hand found her neck and he pulled her closer. The kiss started softly, gently, Grace reveled in the warmth of his lips and the urgency of his breath. Ron sighed as Grace wound her hands up into his hair, and he brought her body flush with his, their kiss deepening. Needing air, they broke, and Grace studied his face desperately, both of them breathing hard.

She could cry, knowing this was as far as it could go. She stuck her pointer finger into the soot once more and turned to him. She ran her finger down his nose lightly while regarding his beautiful face intensely, "I _will_ see you on the other side".

"You will", Ron said with conviction. He let go of Grace reluctantly and watched as she slowly made her way to the door of the tent, and with one last longing look, she walked out.

Grace's heart was hammering, her head spinning, her lips still buzzing from kissing _R_on;_ kissing Ron_. She could die now, absolutely happy. Pulling away from his arms was the hardest thing she'd done.

She found her stick easily, Meehan standing out to her, giving final orders to passersby. She passed George and Tab, who were both with Winters' stick.

"You put on lipstick?" George asked, an eyebrow quirked.

"What?" Grace asked, confused.

"Your lips are red", he said, smiling, "oh wait, I know why".

"Shut it, George", she said, barely concealing a smile.

"Caught up in the moment, huh?" He said.

"Know what?" Tab asked, walking up.

"I'll see you guys over there", Grace pulled them both into a hug, "take care of yourselves".

"You too Grace", Tab said, pulling back and tugging her backpack straps. He frowned, "who painted the stripe on your nose?"

"Spaaaaarky", George drawled, smiling as Grace glared at him.

"Currahee, boys", Grace winked, and walked away.

She saw Lewis pull on his backpack as she passed the plane next to hers.

"Need help?" She offered. Lew smiled as she bounded up to help him strap it on.

"Thanks", he said, looking her over. "You better watch after yourself. Link up with an Easy man as soon as you land, or better yet – look for me."

"It'll be ok" she said, "I'll be fine. I'll see you over there".

He nodded, "Love you Gracie-girl".

"Love you too", she nodded, grasping his hand and then running over to her plane.

Lieutenant Meehan smiled as she approached, "Lieutenant Grant, just the woman I wanted to see".

Grace smirked, "you're not injured yet, are you Lieutenant?"

"Need a pal to snap my backpack on", he grinned.

Grace had liked Meehan immediately after meeting him. He was always asking about her time with the British, he was always interested. Grace, Dick, and Meehan had figured out they were dropping on Normandy using maps and their trial-flights. He was a good leader and the men liked him.

After helping each other into their backpacks, Meehan turned to her.

"We ready for this?" he asked.

"We were born for this", Grace replied to his dimpled smirk. She turned and stood at the back of the line to board the plane, and her eyes sought out Ron across the field. She was deaf from the intense roar of the planes, but she could feel the thudding of her heart. She needed to see him.

"Grant!" Meehan shouted at her over the plane's engine. She turned to him, nodding, and boarded the plane with his help. She sat right inside, near the door, Meehan landed right next to her.

Grace popped her airsickness pills as the plane took off. From her side, Meehan nudged her. She turned to him, he discreetly held out a small flask. Laughing over the engines, she took it from him.

Taking a swing, she tasted gin, scrunching her nose, she turned to him and he laughed at the face she made. She handed it back to him, lit two cigarettes, and passed one to him. He nodded his thanks, taking one, and they settled in – waiting to jump.

Grace looked around the plane at the men, all had expressions of contemplation on their young faces. She marveled at how time passes, had it been two years since she had stepped foot in Georgia? She had walked into Easy a different woman than she was now. She said a few silent prayers that they would be safe, that Easy would regroup again in France. She breathed deeply and prayed Lew would be alright, that Ron would be safe, that the rest of her men would remember their training.

What felt like an eternity later, Grace had been lulled into a light trance-like sleep. The constant hum of the plane was almost therapeutic, and after the sun had gone down, she could only see the men next to her.

_Boom, boom, boom._

Grace opened her eyes at the deep sound that they were flying towards. She knew what it was – anti-aircraft guns.

_Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom_.

Meehan and Grace looked at one another; it would be soon. Meehan stood up and made his way to the cockpit, Grace knew he was finding out how far they'd fly into the fire before they had to jump. How far would they be off course?

With Meehan gone, Grace got an unobstructed view out of the door. All she could see were darkened clouds, lightened occasionally by firepower from the coast.

Then suddenly, the clouds broke and she could see fully the night sky, lit up by anti-aircraft. Grace felt her jaw slacken slightly at the sight, the hair on her neck standing on end at the sheer power of it all.

Meehan came back at that moment, "we don't have time, we'll be far off of the DZ!", he yelled over the engines. Grace nodded at him, having heard.

He held up his hand, signaling them to hook up. Grace stood up and hooked her line, pulling to make sure it was on securely.

Suddenly, Grace was thrown back to her seat. The plane tipped over and Grace's stomach dropped as she stared out the door, seeing only the ground. Meehan was yelling over her and she heard screaming from behind her. She turned around and was horrified to see the plane on fire. Feeling the plane begin to spin out of control, she braced herself for impact or the flames.

Hastily, she was grabbed by the straps on her backpack by Meehan. In a second he had yanked her over to the door, her eyes grew wide and she screamed as she realized what he was doing, and that he wasn't hooked in to jump.

"No!" Grace screamed over her shoulder, struggling to turn around to see his face.

"Go!" She heard him yell, and suddenly, she was airborne.

Feeling her chute deploy, she turned her face up to her plane. She cried out as debris from the plane came near and hit her side, ripping her pack and sending her supplies spiraling down. Grace's eyes were wide as she watched the flaming plane wind down to the earth below.

There was not a second to process what had just happened. Grace was approaching the ground quickly. She directed herself as best as she could, trying to avoid the trees. Feeling branches hit her legs, she braced herself for landing; with a hard _thump_, she landed heavily in a small clearing and made quick to cut her chute away, pocketing some rope in case she needed it.

Crawling to some cover, she took rapid inventory of what she had on her. Her backpack was shredded, everything had fallen out; she decided to ditch it, it was worthless. Slipping it off, she dug into her pocket and retrieved her only weapon – a knife.

Crouching up, she quietly made her way north through the trees, her eyes soaking up the area – trying to locate a marker that would tell her where she was and how far she had to go.

Ten minutes later, Grace heard low voices. Dropping to a knee, she heard them to her right; she quickly crept to the left and took cover, waiting to hear if they were ally or enemy and how many there were.

"Wo der Kapitän ist?" She heard, followed by what sounded like four murmured answers.

Too many to take out alone. Grace stopped breathing as she heard their footsteps pass by, feet from her. Considering they were on foot, she figured she was near a road at least. The fact that they were considerably loud and unconcerned had her worried – that meant she was further off the DZ than she hoped.

After waiting ten full minutes, she emerged from the brush and jogged swiftly along the tree line, avoiding the route the German's had taken. Minutes after that, she found train tracks; she pulled out her small map of the area and grabbed the compass around her neck. She shrugged off her field jacket and pulled it over her head, grabbing the pocket flashlight Tab had given her. Flicking it on quickly, her eyes searched the map. Seconds later, she turned it off and put her jacket back on. According to the map, the meeting area was kilometers away – she had the better part of a day of walking ahead of her. Judging by how far off she was of the DZ, she wouldn't be meeting up with any battalion for hours.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

Hours later, dawn was approaching, the forest bathed in a light blue light. Grace had kept to a tight schedule, and hadn't stopped walking since she started; only taking small breaks every hour. She still hadn't run into any paratrooper yet. She was starting to get anxious, she knew how far off she was – and with the sun coming up in the next couple hours, she would have to go faster to avoid running into any enemies and to catch up with the 101st. She was too far off to make their mission at Brecourt Manor on time, she knew that much, but she'd be damned if they moved out without her. Being the only person from her plane, she knew they wouldn't be looking for her.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

Grace looked at her watch: noon. The landings had already started, Grace had heard the planes hours ago. She also knew that Easy had already taken the guns at Brecourt, they would stay there until morning, then move out. Grace had the rest of the day to make it to Easy and she would barely make it in time according to her pace. She was exhausted, hungry, and slightly dehydrated, but she kept going.

About forty minutes later, she heard branches ahead of her snap. She immediately halted her steps and crouched down. Feeling completely exposed with the sun shining through the trees, she moved as quietly as she could to get behind a tree. Before she could get to the largest tree near her, she heard a snap again – this time within feet of her. She didn't have time to take cover.

"Flash", she whispered out, gripping her knife tightly in her right hand.

CRACK! A bullet ricocheted off the tree next to her, lightly grazing her neck and Grace hit the ground on instinct. Not hearing any footsteps, and her mind reeling, she knew she had to take them out. If it were nighttime, she might have a chance at running, but not now.

Grabbing a softball sized rock near her; she rapidly crawled over to the large tree she had been aiming for.

CRACK! Another bullet whizzed by, followed again by silence.

With her back pressed against the tree, she leaned over as far as she could to see around it. She saw the barrel of a Kraut gun sticking out, pointed at her from ten feet away, a helmet visible behind a bush.

CRACK! He spotted her looking.

She fingered the rock she grabbed, but looked down at the grenade hanging off her jacket. She could toss the rock, try to hit him then attack with her knife and risk missing and getting shot, or throw a grenade, startling him, then attacking, but risking drawing the attention of any more Krauts nearby.

CRACK! Another bullet whizzed by the tree, striking a large rock nearby.

Willing to chance it, Grace dropped the rock and pulled the grenade off her jacket. Swiftly pulling the pin, she threw it at the bush the helmet was behind.

BOOM!

Grace seized her knife harder and ran to the smoke. A young, dazed German soldier stood up from the charred bush and immediately pointed his gun at Grace.

Ducking, Grace threw her weight onto the soldier and sent them both to the ground. She heard the gun fall to the ground feet away. His arms came around her, punching her sides. Grace lashed out, trying to free her arms to use her knife. Rolling over onto their sides, the German had his right arm free, and he latched his hand around her throat.

Grace saw stars as she kicked her legs out, making contact, but not deterring him. Turning her head and trying to bite him, the German attempted to get her knife. Squirming and fighting off the blackness, Grace felt him move off her and she thrust her knee upwards, hitting his groin. The hand around her throat faltered and Grace jerked her face away from his grasp while jamming the knife into the soldier's neck. The German let go of her completely and looked at her helplessly as Grace sat up, coughing lightly. Without thinking, on auto-pilot, she grabbed the knife from his neck and pulled it out. He groaned, trying to roll away. Grace's arm struck again, swiftly ending it with another blow to his neck.

Grace quickly grabbed his gun and made her way back over to the dead German. She found a bag with bullets for it. Seeing nothing else on him, she moved to get up. She wanted to turn and take in this young soldier's features but she stopped herself, turned the way she was going and ran.

Running on adrenaline now, Grace looked herself over for any injuries. She had a gash in her neck from the ricochet, made a bit worse from him choking her, she was also sore from his punches, and her jacket was splattered in blood – both hers and his. She also had a few scratches from branches that had gotten her from the jump and her hike through the night.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

She couldn't stop for resting any more. It was now seven in the evening. She had allowed herself an hour and a half to rest earlier, but it cost her. Straitening the strip of gauze she had tied around her neck and readjusting the Kraut gun, she kept on, her eyes wildly searching for any American vehicle or person now.

Approaching a stone road a few hours later at ten at night, Grace was dead on her feet. She was battling with herself to keep her eyes open. Worried she would wander off in the wrong direction, she found a heavy group of bushes. She ducked her head and worked her way into them, trying to get covered. She sat cross-legged in the bush and unscrewed her canteen. Savoring a large swig of water, she took a deep breath. She knew she had to rest a little bit; but to avoid over-sleeping, Grace remained upright. She closed her eyes, her hand still gripped around the German gun.

Oooooooooooooooooooo

The chirping birds awoke Grace, who sat up alarmed at the time. Five in the morning; she'd managed to get a few hours sleep. She crawled out of the bush, dragging the gun with her. Groaning at the soreness of her neck, she stretched and took a small swig of water.

Using her compass and redirecting herself, Grace set out once again.

Just under two hours later, Grace had followed the stone street and smiled in relief as she found a large group of American jeeps, tanks, and trucks.

Making her way through the vehicles and under a bridge, she could see buildings with a courtyard in the middle. In the center of the courtyard was a monument, and decorating the monument, was Easy Company – laying, sitting, and standing all around it.

"Holy shit", she heard, "Grace!"

Looking up, she saw George Luz standing with first platoon near the monument, "George", she said hoarsely, her throat still bothering her.

"Grace", Floyd appeared behind George, holding a Kraut poncho. He ran to her as she approached them, "where the hell have you been?"

"What happened to you?" Joe Liebgott asked, looking her over.

Grace shook her head, "you all are the first I've seen since I landed", she said.

Perco walked up, "Grace, you hurt?" He gestured to her BDU's, splattered with blood.

"Not all mine", she said.

"So we aren't the first you've seen", Bill asked, looking at her intensely.

"Jesus, Bill – cut her a break will ya?" Toye said, winking carefully at Grace.

"You're the first American's I've seen". Grace amended.

"Lieutenant Meehan?" Pero asked warily. Grace looked at all of them, about to answer when she heard Welsh's voice across the courtyard.

"First Platoon!"

Grace looked at the men in front of her, expecting them to move; they all stayed still, watching her as if she was going to topple over any second. "Plane got hit just off the coast, Meehan grabbed me….threw me out of the plane before it went down".

"Christ Gracie", Tab said, grabbing her hand.

"Come on, fellas", Grace said, making her way to Harry. She brushed off their concerned looks; she needed to find Dick and Lew, tell them what happened to Meehan.

"Easy Company's moving out! Listen up! It'll be dark soon, I want light and noise discipline from here on", Grace walked up behind Tab to stand in front of Harry. "No talking, no smoking, and no playing grab-fanny with the man in front of you, Luz". He continued, "We're taking Carentan – it's the only place where armored from Omaha and Utah can link up and head inland. So if we don't take Carentan, they're stuck on the sand. General Taylor is sending the whole division". He looked over the small group, his eyes landing on Grace. He opened his mouth to address her when George spoke up.

"Remember boys, give me three days and three nights of hard fightin', and you will be relieved", he drawled in his best impersonation. From beside her, Tab nudged her shoulder and laughed.

Hoobler stepped forward, "Lieutenant Welsh, I'll take point".

Welsh nodded, "Corporal Hoobler will be lead scout. Blythe – glad you could join us."

"Thank you sir", the quiet private responded.

"Lieutenant Grant", Harry said, wearing a smile, "as happy as I am to see you – I know our Captain and intelligence officer will be happier."

Grace nodded and she felt the men around her mummer their agreement, George squeezing her shoulder from behind her, "glad to be here".

"We're falling behind Fox company", he said, keeping his eyes on Grace and putting his helmet on.

"Another thing to remember boys", George said again, "flies spread disease, so keep yours closed". Masculine laughter broke out around her and Grace felt herself smile.

"Grace", Harry said, falling into step beside her, "you alright? You want to stay back with third platoon?"

"I'm alright. Just need to find some supplies and an American weapon. This kraut one is a piece."

He laughed lightly, "will do. When we meet up with Dick and Lew – they're going to need a briefing." He looked at her, "I can assume we won't be seeing Lieutenant Meehan anytime?"

"No, I'm the only one", she said quickly.

Harry nodded, "got it. I'm happy you made it", he smiled at her.

"I am too", she returned the smile, and they resumed their walk with the men.

A few minutes later, as Easy fell into a comfortable pace, Harry approached her again.

"I told Dick and Lewis that you're here", he said, "they're trailing third platoon at the rear, they want to see you". Grace turned to look at Harry but he continued, "don't give me any lip. Go".

She nodded her head in thanks and stepped to the side, allowing the men to pass. Turning her head down the line, she was able to see men who didn't know she had joined them. Bull, Martin, Skinny, Shifty, and Buck saw her. Malarkey and Skip ran over to say hi.

Minutes later, she saw two approaching figures and she made her way over to them.

"Captain Winters", Grace called out. She saw Dick smile in relief and look at Lew, who was staring at her.

"Go ahead", Dick said to Lew.

At once Lew walked faster to Grace, and she to him, "Gracie", Lew whispered into her hair and he threw his arms around her. She embraced him then pulled back, looking him over for any bandages, "Jesus, are you hurt?" she heard him ask.

"I'm fine, it's not all mine", she said casually, "are you hurt?"

"Not all yours? Fuck, Gracie", he said. "I thought you were dead". Her eyes snapped up to his, "we knew the plane was lost, no one had seen anyone from Meehan's plane. I thought…"

"I need to brief you", Grace interrupted gently, "and I only want to do it once". She nodded at Dick, who walked over.

"Grace – am I glad to see you", he said, his blue eyes scanning her, "are you in need of a medic?"

"No, I'm alright", she said.

"Not all of it is hers", Lew said pointedly, looking at Grace.

"Why don't you start at how you got out of the plane?" Dick said, watching her carefully.

As they marched throughout the day and into the afternoon, Grace told them how the plane went down, the sacrifice Meehan had made, and her day and a half of walking to find her way back to Easy.

She was worried recounting it would upset her, but it didn't – not yet. All she felt was amazement that she was alive at all; what were the statistics?

One day at a time, that's all any of them could do now – one moment at a time.

Grace walked side by side with Lewis and Dick in comfortable silence. As the sun set below the horizon, she felt Lew's hand wind its way into hers and she sighed as he squeezed, holding her to the earth, to the present, for the time being.

**Thanks for reading!**

**Here we are – in Europe….it has begun.**

**REVIEW! **


	12. Chapter 12

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

A big, gigantic thank you to LauRa-ReaDinG-XoX, brijane, nolechic512, and mockingbird914. Your reviews made my day and have kept me working to make this chapter better than the last.

Ronald Speirs walked confidently to the meeting point right on time and with extra rounds in his pockets and a small group of men he'd found after he landed. Corralling his men, he quickly took inventory; Dog Company didn't do too poorly it seemed. After dismissing them, he hastily surveyed the sea of paratroopers and spotted Easy Company. He didn't see her there.

Oooooooooooooo

Hours later, Ron's eyes again searched the throng of Easy soldiers; it had been the better part of a day and her face still was not among them.

If love was a flame, Ronald Speirs was in hell.

Catching eyes with Lieutenant Nixon, Ron's feet automatically carried him over to where Nixon was standing. He stopped in front of him, neither saying a word but both knowing what the question was, weighing prominently in the air between them.

"Is she here?" Ron asked gruffly. Ron had struck up a convenient 'friendship' with the Ivy League intelligence officer, for they shared something in common: Grace.

An uncharacteristically dark look had a hold over Nixon's features, "Lieutenant Meehan is missing. They think the plane went down". Lewis watched as Speirs stared back blankly. Lew realized Speirs didn't know what stick Grace was in. Furrowing his brow and fixing Speirs with a hard stare, he told him, "She was on his plane".

A dull ringing began in Ron's ears as he desperately fought off a knee-jerk reaction. Nodding his head to Nixon, he gripped the strap of his Thompson; his knuckles white, he stalked off, aimless.

"Lieutenant Speirs, sir – we've got a group of Krauts up the street. Battalion said to notify an officer, sir."

Ron didn't look at the man who spoke to him. The ringing in his ears grew louder as he walked along the road, her smiling face flashing in his mind. When she was in his presence, just the sound of her voice made his chest tight, his face got hot, his mouth got dry. All he required was a glimpse of her to send his usually impenetrable mind reeling.

Experiencing the entirety and horror of D-Day, knowing she was still out there; Ron clenched his jaw, thinking how the world had changed in mere hours. Hours ago, how naïve he'd been; hours ago, he pulled Grace into an empty room with the intention of saying 'good luck'; hours ago, they had kissed. With that kiss, _his_ world had changed; and now facing the reality that she might be gone had catapulted Ron's heart to a place of no return.

He would not and could not go back on his word – that they couldn't 'do this'; and God-willing, if she made her way back to him again – he would protect her as best as he could without her knowing.

Ron neared the group of Germans and welcomed the compassionless, cold, metallic hand of hatred that slid over him effortlessly. Could one of these men be responsible for Meehan's plane?

The smiling face preserved in Ron's mind mutated into her screaming and Ron narrowed his eyes at the appalling image.

Ron felt his hand raise and dismiss the guards standing watch.

Hearing their retreating boots, he heard his detached voice, "cigarette?" Ron held a pack out to one of them, who took it submissively and began to pass them around. As Ron held out a light, he heard Sink's voice in his head, '_No POW's, we do not have the man-power to move them_'.

Coolly snapping his lighter shut, Ron walked to stand before them. Like lightening, he swung his Thompson off his shoulder, aimed, and held down the trigger.

Oooooooooooooo

On a high, on a mission, and walking back to camp – his eyes darting again for her figure, Ron overheard the call that Easy needed more ammunition. Ron knew they were taking the guns at Brecourt and couldn't think of a better way to flex his intense need for blood at the moment. He called for his platoon immediately, draped himself in rounds and led his men into the fray.

Oooooooooooooo

Ron barely slept that night. Standing against a supply truck and fondling an unlit cigarette between his dirty fingers, he saw Lewis Nixon headed his way. Nixon came over, his shoulders hunched. He stopped and leaned against the truck beside Ron, the air was tense.

"Still no word", Nixon said in a low voice, placing a cigarette to his lips.

Ron dropped his eyes to the dirt on the ground, studying the track marks from the jeeps and trucks in the mud; unable to respond. He heard the familiar click of a lighter, then a flame was offered near his face. He looked up, Nixon's features were stressed and overly concentrated as he lit Ron's cigarette and then his own.

Ron took a long drag, enjoying the pain from the slow burn deep in his chest. "I don't like it", he spoke, unable to hold back any longer. "The thought of her alone somewhere…in this", he finished, glaring at the night sky.

After a minute, Lew spoke, "she used to have nightmares".

"As a kid?" Ron asked quietly; he was glad to talk about her – it kept her near, made it feel like she would find them before they were forced to move out.

"No", Lew said curtly, "in Toccoa". Ron's eyes flashed up to Nixon and he continued, "I heard from Talbert, his bunk was next to hers; they got close. She'd been through so much, seen so much before us – and she was all alone". Lew trailed out and Ron kept his eyes on him, watching as he exhaled a lung full of smoke. "She'd wake up in the middle of the night – Tab would be there. They went away gradually. I just hope that this doesn't start them again…when we find her". Lew flicked his cigarette to the ground, nodded at Speirs who just stared back, and walked off to be alone.

Lewis had known Gracie his whole life. He taught her how to catch frogs in the lake, he taught her how to swim, they rode bikes to the soda shop together, spent every summer raising hell with Chuck, she taught him how to dance. They were in Toccoa together. They were pinned paratroopers together. They jumped on D-Day together. There was not a soul on Earth closer to him than Grace Aveleene Grant.

Stepping by himself into an alleyway, Lew squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head.

His throat tight and thick, he whispered, "Chuck….please….please keep her safe".

Oooooooooooooo

George Luz had given up on sleep tonight. His usual bunk buddies – Grace and Floyd – weren't there. He had scoured the meeting place as soon as he'd made it there for both of them, but no dice.

Slowly getting up from the ground, George made his way towards a cluster of trucks, hoping to find some of the guys. On the way, he passed Lieutenant Nixon.

"Sir, any news on Meehan?"

Nixon looked completely beaten up to George, "Nothing", he said, walking away and thumbing a silver flask.

Hearing low voices coming from one of the trucks, George walked over and flipped the flap up.

"Luz", Buck Compton greeted him.

George nodded to him, "Hiya Buck" he said lightly, climbing in to sit next to him. Across from him, Joe Toye handed him an open bottle. The smell of whiskey burnt his nose and George regarded the bottle for a second, thinking of Grace. He took a healthy swig. "What the hell smells in here?" he asked.

"Malarkey's ass", Bill said, reaching for the bottle.

The flap opened again, "hey boys", Joe Liebgott climbed in and took a seat beside Toye.

"George", Don called seriously to him from the back of the truck. George looked up to him, the men quieted. "Any word on Meehan's plane?"

George swallowed thickly at the intense stares directed at him, "saw Nixon outside – nothing". Bill clenched his jaw and passed the bottle to Malarkey's open palm.

"Maybe Talbert hooked up with her", Liebgott offered, twirling a cigarette and looking at the floor.

"This wasn't her first combat jump", Buck said, taking the bottle from Don.

Skip nodded, "Exactly – if anything, she'll be saving Tab's sorry ass out there and dragging it all the way over here".

The men smirked slightly at Muck's attempt at positivity. The talk picked up after a moment of silence and George looked over to Malarkey – they shared a long glance across the truck; both praying Grace and Floyd would make it back to them before they moved out.

Ooooooooooooooo

"First platoon!" Ron heard Lieutenant Harry Welsh's shout to Easy Company.

Ron gripped the strap of his gun, the moment he was dreading was upon them – they were moving out.

Robotically, he walked over to his men, "second platoon on me", he said automatically. His body was obeying orders, preparing to move out; but his heart was pounding, not believing it was leaving her behind. He felt, in that moment, like an inadequate machine – a machine that breaks down at crucial moments, grinds to a dreadful halt, 'won't go', or even worse – explodes in some innocent person's face.

He gave brief orders to his men; they were to fall behind Easy who would follow Fox's lead. As Ron tucked his Lucky's away into his pocket, he heard Welsh's voice again:

"Lieutenant Grant", Ron's face snapped up – there she was, standing in front of Welsh who continued, "as happy as I am to see you – I know our Captain and Intelligence Officer will be happier."

As the men around her laughed and murmured their agreement, Ron's eyes zeroed in on Grace and searched her body. She had no backpack, no leg bag, she held a Kraut weapon; her BDU's had dirt, singe marks, and smears of dried blood on them. Seeing the blood made his stomach drop – he knew it couldn't all be hers. His eyes stalled at her neck, noting gauze wrapped around it. He stopped on her face and watched her speak.

"Glad to be here", she smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

The panic that had made a home deep in Ron's chest melted away at her voice – she's alive.

Oooooooooooooo

Grace trudged along with her men through a body of water later that evening. Surrounded by blazing wreckage and dead bodies; the occasional gunshots were so close they sounded like firecrackers. A royal blue darkness had settled; the red flames and the blue sky almost looked patriotic.

A few feet in front of her, Perconte swiped a watch off of a dead German.

"Don't wake Jerry", Hoobler crackled.

Grace concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other; not on the dull pain coming from her sides where the German soldier had gotten a few good punches in. Marching and the pain also kept Grace focused and kept her from giving into the desperate urge to ask someone if they'd seen Lieutenant Speirs alive and well and unwounded.

Oooooooooooooo

Hours later they'd taken cover in a row of trees and were all digging foxholes for the night.

Grace sat on the edge of Gene's foxhole with Spina to pick up a couple supplies.

"No one found you a pack when you made it to us?" Gene asked, rationing out some bandages to her.

Grace shook her head, "I made it there just as Welsh called for first platoon. Remember Gene, I don't need that many supplies; Sink and Winters want me firing my weapon first – then helping you guys as needed. So don't leave yourself short".

Gene nodded, "I don't have any syrettes to give ya".

"No problem, I can scrounge from another company later", Grace said.

"Is it true – what the boys are saying?" Spina asked as Grace took the small bag from Gene.

"What are they saying now?" She asked, fixing Spina with a stare.

"That Meehan threw you out of the plane".

Grace nodded curtly, "yes, he did".

Gene cut in, "let me take a look at your neck". He scooted over to the side of the foxhole she was on and unwrapped her crude bandage job. "Missed you by centimeters", he said softly.

"Yeah", she said softly back.

Spina bid them both goodnight and left to find his foxhole with Skinny. Gene remained quiet, focused on cleaning and redressing her wound.

"I didn't think this quick in I'd be fixing you up", he said good-naturedly, "I figured it would be the opposite".

Grace smirked, "that's the funny thing. It's ironic, right?"

"Ironic?" Gene asked, tucking in the edges of her new bandage.

"Well George, Tab, and the boys call me 'Lucky' and 'Angel' – and you know this isn't the first time I've been hit".

Gene smirked, "That's true. I remember the first time I met you; patching up that shoulder of yours." He patted her shoulder where she'd been hit before, "you're all set Grace".

Smiling softly, Grace stood up, "thank you Doc". He smiled back and nodded at her.

Grace turned and wove her way quietly through the trees and foxholes, making her way back to hers. She knew she had made it when she heard George's soft laughter.

"No, seriously", he chuckled, "if it had to be anyone in the company, who would it be…..besides the obvious".

"Damnit", she heard Don say, "lemme think first".

"Who would you choose, Tab?" Skip asked.

"Grace", came Tab's short reply.

"Jesus Floyd, _she's_ the obvious", George said, exasperated, "it's against the rules."

"Well, hell, if I could choose Grace, I'd be all over that", Don said.

"Would you now?" Grace said, lithely sliding into the foxhole between George and Tab. Tab threw his arm over her shoulder and smirked at Don. "What game are you playing and why am I the '_obvious'_?" She asked George.

George smiled at her, "we're choosing who would give us mouth to mouth if we had the choice". Grace snorted, glad for some distraction.

"You're the _obvious_, because well – you're the prettiest thing here, Angel", Skip said shrugging his shoulders. He turned to Don, "I'd choose Malark".

Don rolled his eyes, "thanks sweetheart", he said sarcastically.

"Who would you choose Gracie?" Skip asked.

"She's got her pick of the litter", George said, then looked at her sideways, "but the rules are – you gatta choose from _Easy_ company". Grace ignored George's evident implication, she also ignored her heart pounding at the small mention of Ron. Grace pursed her lips, thinking whom she'd choose.

"She'd pick Nixon, _that's_ obvious", Don said.

"She should pick Sobel", Skip said over their muffled laughter, "no one would see that coming".

"Floyd" Grace said.

"What?" Tab said beside her.

"Lucky dog", Don muttered.

"I knew it", George said as Floyd smiled, realizing she picked him.

"Course, I'd happily do it to all of you… if it was needed", Grace said quickly.

"Remind me to choke on something later", Skip said.

Ooooooooooooooo

Later in the night, after Skip and Don had gone back to their foxhole and George and Tab had fallen asleep, Grace lay awake. George was a mover in his sleep and he kept kicking Grace's thigh as he shifted positions once again from across her. She sighed and moved to her right, getting closer to Tab.

"Can't sleep?" Tab asked her in a soft voice.

Grace looked to him, startled, "I thought you were asleep", she whispered.

"With George dancing over there? Impossible", he said, eyeing her. After a second, he spoke again, "what happened to your neck?"

"Ricochet off a tree", she said simply. "Your jump go ok?"

He shrugged, "landed miles away from the DZ, linked up with a couple guys and fought with the five-oh-deuce until we found everybody." Grace nodded and he continued, "How did you get away?" he gestured to her neck.

Grace knew he would ask and want to know what had happened, "It was in the middle of day – he was feet from me, there was no way to run; I was unarmed. So I ducked down and behind a tree, lugged a grenade at him and charged." She looked up at Tab, their shoulders pushed together in the tight space of the foxhole, his eyes searching hers, "when I took him down, he dropped the gun, I had my knife but he pinned my arms down and got a good few punches to my side." Grace kept her voice even, watching Floyd's eyes grow dark, "he got a hand around my neck, and when he shifted I shoved the knife up in his neck." She took a breath, "I grabbed his gun and kept going".

"Jesus Christ, Gracie", Tab said, running a hand roughly over the back of his neck. His eyes searched hers, his lips pursed. He shook his head, clearly bothered, and took out two cigarettes, passing one to Grace.

Grace kept her eyes on him steadily. Lew had had a similar reaction. Dick had gone quiet, his rigid posture screaming to Grace as she told him and Lew what had happened to the plane and how she'd managed to find Easy. Lewis on the other hand, kept his gaze glued to her face as she spoke, the muscles in his strong jaw clenching. After she was done, Dick had squeezed her hand and went to find Harry; Lew had grabbed her hand and held onto it tightly as they kept walking through the day.

Tab lit his cigarette and went to light hers but the lighter broke. "Shit", he muttered, shaking the lighter, "piece of shit".

"Here", Grace said leaning toward him. With her cigarette on her lips, she touched the tip of his. She smirked as his eyes widened, realizing what she was doing, she inhaled and watched, as the tip grew red.

"Get those Lucky's out of way and skip to the good part, would ya?" George drawled, startling them both.

"Shut up, Luz", Tab said smiling as Grace sniggered.

Oooooooooooooo

Grace watched the sky turn from navy to periwinkle; the sun would come up in an hour or so. On one side, Tab lay against the wall of the foxhole, Grace's back pressed to his arm; on her other side, George had scooted over during the night in his sleep and was currently resting against her arm.

She said a silent prayer, thanking God for the two men beside her, for Lewis, Harry, and Dick. Inevitably, she allowed her thoughts to go straight to Ron. Was his jump successful? Was he wounded? Did he know she was missing for a while? How were his men? Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt her heart pick up, she wanted nothing more than to seek him out just to _see_ his face.

Now was the perfect time to head over to Dog company medics to pick up a couple syrettes.

Leaning forward off Tab, Grace cradled George's face and gently slid out from between the two of them. Setting George's head onto Tab's shoulder, she smiled lightly, grabbed her gun, placed her helmet on and climbed out of the damp foxhole.

Holding her gun out in front of her at a downward angle, she moved quickly through the trees to the end of Easy's line – to where Dog would be. She knew she was close when she passed a sleeping Harry Welsh and Buck Compton at the end of their line.

"Where you headed Angel?" Buck spoke to her.

"Dog – I need to scrounge a couple syrettes", she answered.

"Ok", Buck grinned, "get back soon, we're moving out in an hour".

"Aye-aye", she said back.

Crossing into Dog Company, Grace's eyes began searching every helmet in every foxhole, her heart pounding in her ears. She certainly wasn't expecting a "reunion" of any sorts at all. Before the jump, that kiss had been in a moment of weakness; she knew that. Grace mentally winced at her easy dismissal of that kiss. In reality, that kiss was monumental to her; absolutely profound.

She desperately wanted to find Ron, run her hands over him to make sure he wasn't hurt, jump into his foxhole with him and stay there all day – but she had agreed with him weeks ago in Upottery, not to do this. She would honor that agreement, as much as it killed her, she would make sure he was safe from afar. The only thing she was able to do in this moment was to _see_ him.

Her eyes caught a helmet with the medic cross on it and she made her way over.

"Lieutenant Grant", the young medic squinted through tired eyes at her.

She nodded her head, "McAllister", she said. "You got any syrettes you can part with?"

"Yes, of course. How many do you need?" He asked as Grace knelt down by his foxhole.

"Just a couple, please", she said.

"You got it Lieutenant", McAllister said. While he was sifting through his bag, Grace looked up, her eyes again searching the area hungrily. She clasped her hands in front of her, wringing her them slightly. The need to see Ron was powerful, more powerful than she thought. Should she seek him out? Should she ask McAllister where he was? Would he want to see her? _Ridiculous_, she thought, _I'm ridiculous_. Clenching her jaw, she dropped her shoulders and looked down. "Here ya go".

Grace smiled and took the two syrettes from McAllister, "thanks again. I hear we're moving out soon. Make sure you and the other medics get your stuff together". McAllister smiled back, nodding. Grace stood up and hesitantly made her way back to Easy.

As she made her way back, Grace mused over how deeply the world had altered in these last few days – how _her_ world had changed. A week ago, she could have gone without seeing Ron, but the war is here – the war they'd been training for was here and the memories she'd had the luxury of ignoring the past couple years caught up with her in the last fifty hours.

Ron had the power to make her feel completely vulnerable, powerless, fragile. In war-torn Europe, those emotions weren't suitable for survival and Grace knew this. She felt like a flame, a flimsy, flickering flame – poorly sheltered from the storm of the war, and she feared that the position she'd put herself in, sooner or later she would sputter and die out.

"Flash", came a steady whisper from her left.

"Thunder", she answered confidently back.

Ron's figure stepped through the trees, his face illuminated by the rising sun. Grace's heart leapt to her throat and she struggled to keep a neutral face. Discreetly, her eyes tore up and down his body – looking for bandages, blood, anything that would indicate he needed her attention.

"Lieutenant Grant", he said stiffly. Grace's eyes snapped to his and she bit the inside of her cheek at the use of her rank and last name.

"Lieutenant Speirs", she said back, noticing his hard eyes raking her form. Her heart stuttered at this cold reception; it's funny how someone could he such an integral part of your life – you share your thoughts, your life stories, everything but your heartbeats – and one day, _nothing_. You share _nothing_. Looking into his eyes, Grace saw _nothing_. She could feel the pounding in her heart: evidence of their time together, but looking at him, it was as if none of it ever happened.

"What are you doing away from Easy?" He asked, walking forward and stopping feet from her.

"I picked up a couple syrettes from McAllister, Roe couldn't part with any of his", Grace said. She wanted to drop the sudden formality; cursing herself for their situation, she was resigned to play the game. She took in his posture, rigid; his eyes here firm, almost cold – the only warmth, the only familiarity to him was in an edge in his voice.

"I heard about Lieutenant Meehan", Ron said, watching her reaction. She didn't answer, she didn't know what to say. She simply nodded softly and shrugged. Ron had to know, "how did you get out?"

Grace knew she would have to get used to telling the story. She felt like a hack, a bad actor in a theatre surrounded by better performers than her; her retelling the tale spoiled the whole affair. She owed her life to Meehan, and she hated that she could not save him. He had a wife; he had a home waiting for him. Looking back up at Ron's contemplative face, Grace decided he was a brilliant actor – either he had been indifferent about her all along, or the wall she felt tonight was a farce.

"Our plane took a hit to the back and started to spin. Meehan had ordered us to hook up just a second before. We were headed to the ground, fast – and the back of the plane had exploded into flames. Meehan grabbed me by my pack straps and threw me out of the plane." She watched Ron's face, her voice sounding far away. "I tried to grab him, he wasn't hooked in. He just threw me out. Not a second later, the plane took a nosedive – the whole thing was in flames. A big piece nearly took me out, it ripped my pack right off".

Ron's eyes immediately transformed – the cold broke and the intense heat Grace had grown to love flooded them as he stepped closer to her and Grace nearly felt her head spin at the sudden change, "He did the right thing." His olive drab eyes were smoldering as he regarded her, Grace clutched the strap of her M1 harder to keep herself from touching him, "I would have done the same in a heartbeat".

"Ron", Grace breathed, not sure what to say; she knew she would do the same for him.

"I'll escort you back to the line, we're moving out soon", he said curtly, and in an instant, the coldness was back.

Grace gripped her gun and nodded. As soon as she turned and began walking the last stretch to Easy's line, she felt Ron's hand come and rest ever so lightly on her lower back. There are some words that once spoken will split the world in two. There would be the life before you breathed them, and then the altered life after they've been said. Grace knew in her heart she'd spend the rest of the war searching for the right words to offer to Ron. She would have to choose with care and hold onto them, unspoken, for as long as she could just so her world could stay intact.

Two silent minutes later, Grace could see Buck and Harry standing together passing a canteen. Buck's face broke out in a smile seeing Grace return.

"Just in time, Angel, we're movin' out", Buck said, eyeing Ron.

"Lieutenant Grant", Ron said tersely, removing his hand from her back and turning around, walking hastily back to Dog.

"What did you do to Sparky?" Harry asked her, staring after Ron and lighting a cigarette.

Grace turned to Harry and grabbed his cigarette, placing it between her lips. Buck grinned at Harry's expression, she shrugged and began walking back to George and Tab, "not a clue Harry".

**Please review!**

**Thank you SO MUCH for reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

Another HUGE thank you to LauRa-ReaDinG-XoX and paintmyworlddarkblue for taking the time to review; your kind and thoughtful words really keep me going!

The house that Grace grew up in was in New York. It was a large brownstone with four floors. Her favorite room, apart from her father's library, was her own. It was cozy, filled with natural light and neutral colors; there was a large bay window with a window-seat that overlooked Central Park. When it was snowing or raining and being outside was not an option, Grace and Chuck, and – if it were a weekend – Lewis would hole up with blankets beside that window for hours.

Next to her window was her desk – perpetually littered with worn books, old journals, and empty ink wells. On the corner of her desk, an old framed picture sat – her mother and father on their honeymoon in France; after The Great War and before the German occupation. It was the best picture Grace had of her parents together, especially of her mother – Aveleen. Grace knew that picture like the back of her hand: they were standing close together – her mother laughing, her face towards the camera; her father holding her around her waist with both arms, smiling fondly at her. Behind them was a storefront with small bistro tables, couples sipping from small white cups, the sign above the door had large painted letters that spelled 'Café'.

Crouching beside Harry and George, Grace surveyed the small village of Carentan. Her eyes had stilled on a small café with letters painted above it reading 'Café de Normandie'. It was at the end of the only road leading into Carentan, and Grace's thoughts immediately went to that picture from what seemed to be another lifetime. Regarding the café's deteriorated façade, the street utterly lifeless and quiet, Grace acknowledged the irony when her heart gave a tug. _How things have changed_.

Dick approached Grace and Harry, speaking in a hushed voice, "Harry, you take first platoon straight up the middle, hard and fast." He turned to them, regarding their faces with intensity, "we have to move quickly. I'll be right behind you with second and third", he instructed. Grace and Harry nodded to him, and Grace gripped her M-1 tight, her jaw set. Dick's eyes held tight on Grace for a few beats. She knew exactly what was going through his mind; this was the first official battle that they will participate in as a company. She had seen those eyes before with the British – they said 'you should be home waiting for your sweetheart, not here, dirty with a gun in your hand'. On their way up the dirt road to the village, Grace had managed to avoid Lewis, expecting that look from him; she even had seen and ignored Ron with Dog Company, his iron gaze on her as Easy got closer to Carentan. She was not here to be lovesick, she was here to save her men and win a war. Grace nodded slightly at Dick; he nodded back and looked at his watch, and then waved his arm, "go".

Harry turned around swiftly, "let's go first platoon".

The speedy scuffling of boots in the dirt interrupted the hushed atmosphere. Grace fell beside George who was behind Harry, a few others trailed near them. Breathing evenly, and counting the steps in her head, Grace didn't flinch when bullets began raining down on them almost instantaneously. The man beside her was hit and fell down hard. Intending to fall behind Harry and George to the left, she skidded to a stop as a spray of bullets hit the ground in front of her, cutting her off. Unable to remain still, she ran to her right, she caught sight of guns now protruding from the windows of the café as she heard the rest of Easy stop their advance behind them, no doubt diving to the sides of the road as soon as the bullets began to fly.

The spattering sound of bullets flew all around her; she couldn't determine where they were coming from. She heard someone yell, "take cover!"

Grace pushed herself flush against a wall next to the café. Aiming her gun up at the café windows, before she could get a shot off, she heard returning fire come from Easy's location and she crouched down immediately to avoid being hit by friendly fire.

"Shit", she hushed to herself, she was out in the open and without Easy's advance, she would be caught in the crossfire.

From the side of the road, Lewis crouched down to avoid the flying bullets coming from the town. He knew Grace and a few men from first platoon had run into the fire and needed cover.

Someone yelled from behind the brush, "get those MG's movin', will ya?"

He heard Buck shout above the scattering of rounds, trying to get the men to move from the ditch, "get outta there! Let's go!"

Every second wasted was a moment too long, Lewis looked to where Dick was standing, "they're in the open for Christ's sake!" His heart was pounding, thinking of Grace out there. "God damn it!", he seethed to himself. He watched as Dick stood up in the road, a prime target for any Kraut, and starting yelling at the men to advance.

Grace made her way around the building to the side, her eyes darting for snipers. She caught sight of Shifty and a line of second platoon men make their way to her location. They were coming through a field, and she spotted a sniper on a landing, his gun pointed at her as Shifty pushed through a wooden fence. He was about to go to her when she pushed away from the wall and shoved them both up against the opposite building, pressing them against the bricks and chicken wire just as another passing soldier was taken out right where they would have been standing.

Another man ran up and stood across the small road from them, peeking around the corner. Grace's eyes darted to a window, diagonal from them, watching fire blast out of a rifle.

Shifty, inches away from her, whispered, "you alright Gracie?"

"I'm alright Shifty". She replied. "We gatta take out these snipers".

"We're trapped in a bad way", Shifty said, pulling his gun up tight against him.

"I know", she whispered, watching as the private across the road from them pulled a grenade and lugged it towards the window, missing it by inches. "Shit", she whispered. Immediately, a shot rang out and he fell, Shifty and Grace both turned their faces skyward – the sniper on the landing had taken out the private swiftly.

"I can get that first one, above us", Shifty said.

Knowing his expert shot, Grace nodded. Shifty smoothly stepped out from the cover of the building, aimed, and shot one off, Grace heard the shots coming from the landing cease. Shifty stepped back beside her and nodded.

Grace then stepped forward and breathed out evenly, aiming her weapon at the window across from their location. There were two silhouettes operating the machine gun in the window, she would have to be quick. Relaxing her shoulders, she fired and saw one shadow fall over. She moved to aim again to the other, but he was quick – yelling in German and throwing the barrel of the machine gun their way and firing immediately. She was about to press the trigger when she was yanked back.

Instantly, dust and feathers flew up around her, "SHIT", Shifty yelled, pulling Grace close.

"FUCK", Grace cried as she felt rock and debris fall on them as the bullets nicked the building inches away from her and Shifty. She pressed herself up against him, attempting to shield him in case any bullet ricocheted.

From their location across the courtyard, George and Harry could openly see Shifty and Grace being pinned down by the machine gun. George gripped his gun and gritted his teeth as Harry stepped forward, his eyes determined.

"I'm gonna need some covering fire, ready Luz?" Harry yelled over at the radio operator.

"You got it Lieutenant!" George yelled back, readying his rifle. He began popping rounds at the windows as Harry pulled the pin on a grenade, grabbed his weapon and ran out towards the window.

Feeling an unending barrage of bullets spraying their small corner, Grace could only drop her gun and press harder against Shifty, "shit!", she heard him yell again. Grace held her breath, screaming mentally.

Suddenly, she felt a shudder and heard a blast. The bullets had stopped and Grace looked up and saw smoke pouring out of the window that had been shooting at them. Pulling herself off Shifty, she looked him over to make sure he wasn't wounded. He was searching her form; doing the same. Breathing hard, they looked at one another, relived. Grace pressed her back against the wall and leaned down, grabbing her gun once again.

Across the road, Grace saw Lipton and George run to the wall.

"You ok Gracie? Shifty?" Lip yelled to them. Grace held George's eyes and nodded and Shifty held a 'thumbs up'.

"We gatta take that big warehouse!" Grace yelled to Lip, pointing to the building she saw as she ran in. She got across the road, Shifty behind her. They ran down a street, and crouched by a corner by Lip and Perconte.

"Shift!" Lip called out, and Shifty stepped forward.

"Shoot out those windows", Grace instructed to Shifty, pointing up. Shifty stepped forward and shot them out as Grace kept an eye out for any enemy action directed at them.

Grace turned to Lip and Perconte, nodding at them while taking a grenade out. They followed suit, pulled the pins and threw the grenades through the empty windows.

With Easy leading the main assault on Carentan, Dog Company remained behind – they would be ordered to push in and secure once the majority of the village was taken. Ron attempted to ignore the pounding headache forming quickly behind his eyes. It had started the second the bullets began to rain down the moment Easy moved in. He had pushed his way forward, recognizing Grace's gait and form as one of the few who had made it into town first.

Crouching down feet behind Nixon and members of battalion staff, Ron waited eagerly on edge for the official order to advance, his fingers twitching on his weapon every time a shot rang out.

Major Strayer, seated next to Nixon spoke while looking through a pair of binoculars, "ok – send 'em in".

Nixon turned around, his eyes focusing in on Ron, looking unsurprised to see him so close, "Dog Company, move out!"

Ron shot up to his feet, turning to his platoon, "let's go! Move out!"

After clearing the warehouse, Grace quickly ran across the street to where Dog Company members were clearing a building. The silence between shots was stretching; Grace knew it would be over soon. Her ears were searching for any cries of 'medic', or any orders called out. She could hear her steady breathing, her feet pounding against loose rocks and cobblestones.

She ran past a freshly cleared building, and heard shuffling from the smoking wall to her left, and a German stumbled out.

Ron and his platoon made their way hastily up the dirt path and into the town. Ron had ordered two of his men to blast a side of a house in order to flush any hiding Germans out.

His men had blasted through a wall and Ron had waited a minute for any Krauts to spill out, but it was silent and still. Ron ordered his men up into the next building when he spotted a paratrooper running past the smoking wall. As the soldier jogged past, a lone German, dusty and dirty, limped out.

Grace paused, and saw his startled blue eyes rake her face then her body, no doubt stalling because he recognized feminine features. That second felt like an eternity, and was long enough for Grace to act on instinct, pulling her side arm and aiming expertly.

Ron paused, and watched as the Paratrooper elegantly presented his side arm, held it steady in front of him, and pulled the trigger.

She pulled the trigger, exhaling. Her bullet pierced his chest, sending a spray of crimson in front of her to mingle with the dust hanging in the air. She stared at his tanned face as it relaxed, his eyes closing, and watched his body crumple to join the rubble on the ground. Her arm still extended in front of her, and the eerie silence stretched on.

"Soldier?" a deep voice yelled at her suddenly.

Impulsively, Grace swung her arm in front of her, aiming at the voice. Her eyes widened seeing Ron's face, staring at her.

"Grace?", She'd obviously caught him off guard. His eyes tightened, at the dead German at her feet, her gun positioned protectively in front of her. Breathing out, she lowered her arm and raked over his body to make sure he was unwounded.

"Ron", she watched his jaw clench as his eyes searched her body; Grace no longer cared for his adopted formality. "Are you alright?" She looked intently at his face, probing for any injury.

"Yes, I am. Are you alright?" his gaze was blazing as he took her in, his heart pounding, waiting for her voice to tell him she was unhurt.

Grace could not help but acknowledge the curious and bizarre clash of worlds in that moment. Her heart was pounding, but perversely not from having just shot a man, or being a target for a sniper. Looking at Ron, in the middle of a broken village – a battlefield – she felt agony. His coldness a few nights ago and his subsequent negligence had confirmed to her that he felt nothing, but the strength of her own feelings for him compelled her to obey her heart, to have hope that she wasn't too late for him, that any precious feelings weren't gone forever.

The problem with the heart, though, is how it can have so many opposite feelings coursing through it at the same time. Grace felt contented to see him alive, exposed that he just witnessed her killing someone – even if it was a Kraut, grateful that he had been here at this moment, but goaded that he appeared shocked. The heart was an inconsistent thing – appreciating something one minute, hating it the next.

Ron's men jogged up to him, piercing the silence and they stood, staring at Grace. Ron kept his eyes on her, "I'm alright", she responded. Quickly, she nodded at Ron, and jogged past him across the street.

She reached the building on the other side of the street, and heard Lipton bellow out above her, "they got us zeroed! Get outta there!"

Grace felt the ground shake violently as an explosion sent a mound of dirt ten feet away from her sky high. She ran forward to the middle of the road and began yelling at the men nearby, "Spread it out! Spread it out!" Get the hell outta there!" She ran forward to a few men huddled near a lamppost, "go, go!" The ground shook again and a man running across the street was blown clear up in the air, his left foot remaining on the ground. He landed, screaming, and clutching his leg. Grace ran to him and knelt down, looking him over.

"We're gonna get you outta here Private, you're gonna be fine", she said to the shaking and bloody soldier, who was clutching at her arms. He had clearly lost his foot and half of his shin. Grace moved down to what was left of his leg, she pressed her stomach up against his wound, attempting to stop the massive blood flow. She couldn't move him yet, there was so much blood that without immediate help, Grace feared he would bleed out. Quickly grabbing a tourniquet from her pocket, she twisted it tightly right under his knee. Just a second later, she leaned back and grabbed his shoulders, "let's get you to the medics!"

"Here to help, Gracie!" Bull yelled, emerging from a doorway nearby. The two of them grabbed the man under his arms and began hauling him to a safer location. Grace looked up to see Lipton standing in the middle of the road, yelling.

"Move! Move!" He screamed to everyone, moving his arms. As she and Bull passed an alley, she saw Germans loading another round and aiming at him.

"Lip!" Grace yelled as the Germans fired, the sounding explosion throwing her, the wounded man, and Bull to the ground. Grace's face shot back up to where Lip had been, a fuming crater now in his place. They were now in the open and a spray of bullets landed near them, coming from the alleyway. Grace threw herself over Bull and the wounded paratrooper, shielding them.

"You guys ok?" She heard Tab shout from across the yard. Grace slid off Bull, and quickly swung her weapon around, spraying down the entire alley, taking out all of the Krauts who were operating their guns.

Bull quickly pulled the man up and nodded at Grace, "I got him Grace, go check on Lip".

Grace nodded, "get him to the medics". Bull nodded and ran off with the wounded man on his shoulders. She turned around to where Tab was, "Tab, on me!" She got up and ran to where Lip had been standing, "Lip!" she looked around and saw Lipton laying by a wall, moving and trying to sit up. He had a cut on his face and a large gash on his arm.

Grace came to a stop beside him and leaned her gun against the wall, pulling a roll of gauze from her jacket pocket. She gently lifted Lip's arm and wound the gauze around it tight, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. Tab skidded and crouched to the ground beside her, looking Lipton over.

"Hiya Lip, you're gonna be ok", she said, her eyes searching his.

"You look good buddy", Tab said, grabbing Lip's gun on the ground.

He wasn't looking at them, but gazing down at himself, breathless and dazed. Grace fought to keep her breathing even and looked to where he was staring, and saw a large stain of blood at the crotch of his pants. Setting her jaw, she looked over to Tab, who had his eyes on the red mass. Not caring about privacy, but the safety of her friend, Grace's hands instantly went to the stain and ripped the warm, wet fabric. She quickly looked inside and looked right back up to Lip, who was now staring at her, "you're perfect, Lip – everything is right where it should be". Lipton nodded, exhaustedly at her.

"Come on Sergeant, up you go", Tab said, helping him up. She hoisted him up on his right side, throwing his arm around her shoulder and walked with him and Floyd.

Grace hobbled quickly with a half limping Lipton and Tab over to a covered stone patio that was swarming with medics and wounded men.

Gene ran up to her at once, "Lieutenant Grant, Sergeant Lipton ok?"

"Nearly hit – he flew back, hit a wall, and cut himself up pretty bad but he's stable. Not sure if he's got a concussion or not", she replied, gently helping Lipton down. "Hey Lip", she spoke to him, searching his eyes to make sure he didn't have a head injury. "I know you're exhausted, but you need to sit up and stay awake for me until we know how hard you hit that wall."

He nodded gingerly, and Grace knew he was nursing a headache now, "you got it Lieutenant".

Grace patted him on the shoulder softly and turned to Gene, "we need to track down some aspirin for him". Gene nodded and she continued, "You need me to stick around here? You guys ok?"

"We're alright, it's all nearly over. They need you guys out there", he replied. Grace nodded, patting Tab's arm and turning back around, "be safe", Gene said from behind her.

"We will", Tab called over his shoulder. Grace steadied her weapon and ran back out, Floyd beside her.

Gene pressed his lips together while watching them go back out. He turned and knelt down beside Lipton, "you doin' alright sir?" He rummaged through his aid kit and brought out new gauze to clean the cut on Lipton's face.

"Yeah I'm ok, thanks doc", Lipton replied. He gestured towards the archway Grace left through, "I knew she'd been around the block…but she always surprises me."

Gene smirked, "you and me both sir". He handed a couple aspirin and his canteen over, "here you go".

As Grace and Floyd trotted over to the opening of the patio, Grace spoke to him, "God am I glad to see you, Floyd".

They reached the side of the covered patio when Tab turned to Grace, "you ok Gracie?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Are you ok?" She asked, her eyes catching his. He nodded, surveying the small village.

"Angel! Just the face I wanted to see", came a loud voice to their left.

"Buck", Grace was happy to see him.

"I need someone to grab a platoon, head over and help clear out some of the last buildings with Dog company", he said.

"You got it; what platoon?" She asked.

"Seeing as Tab's with you, grab first platoon and head over to the building across from the pharmacy – that's where they need help", he said.

"I'm on it, Lieutenant", Grace said, running towards George and Hoobler, Tab hot on her heels. "First Platoon, on me!" She called out, the men surrounding gathering instantly. "We've got orders to help Dog clear out some of these last buildings across from the pharmacy. Let's go". Running past them, getting out in front, George winked at her and she nodded at him.

They reached the battered building in minutes. Grace noted second platoon on the other side of the street, Tipper and Liebgott heading into the pharmacy. The town had grown quiet in comparison to how they had first entered it. The Germans were no doubt retreating. They had taken Carentan.

Rounding the corner, she was unsurprised to see Ron standing in front of Dog Company. Ordering her men to stand up against the walls, she noted Dog ready and waiting for support.

"Lieutenant Speirs", she said curtly.

"Lieutenant Grant", he said, surveying her and her platoon darkly. "We're awaiting reinforcements to clear out this row of buildings".

Grace smirked boldly, "ready and willing, Lieutenant". She turned, jerking her head lightly, signaling them to come around the corner and behind her, and then locked onto his gaze again, "on your order, sir". Grace watched Ron's lips move as he swiftly spoke out, ordering the men into the building. Thankfully, the town had been overrun by the 101st, so there was no gunfire to greet the platoons who charged inside at Ron's word.

"Clear!" The men had cleared the first floor, sounds of their boots scraping the staircase floated outside.

Ron stood still for a full moment, watching Grace's face, and holding away the tsunami of thoughts that were flowing through his mind. He wondered idly if this was a dream; life before war or after – either could have been a dream. He would prefer to wake up from this, with her, and struggle to recall what war was like. He feared the reality was the opposite; that he had woken up to this and he had to bitterly accept the cold, hard waking and all its penalties.

"Clear!" Voice muffled a bit now, but they could hear it outside; the second floor was clear. One more floor to go.

Grace felt herself hovering; she was standing on the hard ground without feeling it under her jump boots. Unraveling, trapped beneath his heated gaze, her fingers gripped her cold, metal gun but itched to bury themselves within his soft, dark hair. The only thing tethering her to the earth was Ron, and she could not deny it anymore. There is always one person you _love_ who becomes that definition. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will love for the rest of your life. Grace knew Ron had taken her heart, and captive as it may be, she let him take it; she even gave it away with a blessing. She also knew that Ron had won, and he always would. He would win and she would lose. Because for the rest of her life, Ronald Speirs would control how she would feel about any other man who may walk into her life.

BOOM!

There was an explosion from across the road at the pharmacy and Ron grabbed Grace's arm, pushed her against the wall of the building and pressed himself over her, holding her close. Grace heard bits of glass land near them, scrapping the ground.

Ron was breathing down on her, "you alright?"

Grace looked down to his hand on her waist, then up to him, "yes". She placed her hand on his and pulled herself away from the wall, looking over his shoulder to the blown out pharmacy. She looked back to him, "are you ok?"

He nodded at her as someone from across the street yelled, "Gracie?" Grace looked again over Ron's shoulder and saw Liebgott cradling a severely wounded Tipper.

"Oh my God", Grace said under her breath. She walked past Ron, squeezing his hand and speaking over her shoulder, "tell my men to report to company CP".

Ron nodded at her and let her hand go.

**Thank you for reading!**

**It would be much appreciated to review and tell me what you think!**


	14. Chapter 14

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

THANK YOU, thank you, thank you, thank you to **brijane -** you seriously made my day with your review. To everyone who wants another Ron/OC story to read, check out her story: **"The Rules of War"**.

Grace held Tipper's hand as he lay on the gurney; the ambulance was pulling up to them. As it neared, she felt him lightly squeeze her hand.

" They're going to care to take good care of you, Tip", she said softly to him. Smiling lightly at him looking up at her, she continued, "you're gonna get out of here, go back to England, then you're going back to the states. You're going home". She could see the relief in his eyes, in his shoulders – but the way he was still gripping her hand suggested otherwise. The ambulance pulled to a stop and two medics came out to open the doors. Beyond, she saw Liebgott, Smokey, Malarkey, and Moore jogging up to see Tipper off. Rubbing her other palm against the back of his hand, she smirked, "all these guys are gonna be jealous as hell of all the attention you are gonna get from those English nurses". She grinned as he managed to crack a smile.

"Hey Tip, looking good pal", Moore said, looking him over.

"Go give those limey doctors hell for Easy, huh?" Smokey said, smiling.

A dark haired medic approached Grace, "Lieutenant, is he ready to go?"

"Yep, he's all set. Make sure he's comfortable", Grace replied.

"Yes ma'am", he said, taking a hold of the gurney. Grace gave Tipper a final squeeze and placed his hand to his side.

"You take care Tip, we'll see you at home", Liebgott said from beside Grace, his hand slipping over hers. Joe spoke quietly to her, "he looks good Gracie, you cleaned him up real good".

The group of them watched the ambulance drive away, "he's gonna be ok?" Malarkey asked from her other side.

"Yeah, he's going to be just fine", Grace answered honestly. "I have to go make sure Doc Roe is alright…I'll see you fellas later", she turned and smiled warmly at Joe, winking and walked back towards the make shift aid station, feeling a tad light headed.

Until a few moments ago, Grace had gone nonstop since they had run into Carentan. Automatically reaching under her jacket and shirt, she pulled out the small compass Ron had given her. Holding it tightly, the mere weight of it gave her comfort. The small gesture touched Grace more than she let on, and understanding more of Ron's marble exterior, her heart throbbed that he had even once thought to give her the token. Upon entering the building, she noted the action had calmed down and everyone remaining only had superficial wounds. She spotted Gene standing with Dick, watching Private Blithe trudge out. She walked over to them and Dick noticed her.

"Grace", he smiled at her, turning, and Grace noticed his slight limp.

"Dick, are you hit?" She looked him over, ignoring his pink cheeks as she brazenly checked his lower half.

"Caught a piece of a ricochet", Gene said, hiding a smirk from Grace and her well known tenacity. He handed her an unused bandage, "can you wrap up the Captains leg, Lieutenant – I gatta check on Lip and make sure the boys 'aint stealing any asprin".

Grace nodded, "you got it Doc". She turned to Dick and smiled. He sighed and sat on the countertop, "I'd give you a lollipop like a proper doctor's office, but I don't have any of those", she teased him.

Dick smirked, "very funny", she chuckled, "you did a heck of a job out there, Grace".

"Thank you", she said softly, gently wrapping his shin tight.

"Scared the hell out of Lewis", he said as Grace fought a grimace, "and me", he added.

She was about to respond when Buck strutted in, all swagger and suavity. He grinned at Dick and winked at Grace, "you gonna be able to stay off it?" Grace finished the bandage and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Doesn't look that way", Dick sighed, "since you're both here, I'll tell you – we should expect a counter attack". Buck and Grace both nodded their heads knowing, as Dick stood up, gaining his balance, "Carentan is just as important to us as it is to them. We won't be here to defend it, battalion wants to head east toward high ground and set up a defensive position to block the German's only point of passage".

"I'll make sure the men know we're not staying overnight", Buck said.

"I'll see to it that the aid supply truck is good to go", Grace said, wiping her hands on her filthy, bloody BDU's and turning.

"Grace", Dick said and she turned back to them, "go see Vest for a new jacket and shirt. I don't want Sink to see his newest First Lieutenant looking like she just ran the obstacle course in Toccoa a hundred times over".

Buck grinned and Grace furrowed her brow, "sir?"

Dick smiled, "congratulations First Lieutenant Grant", he offered his hand and Grace shook it firmly, "you'll get your silver bars from someone in battalion".

"Thank you sir", Grace said, reeling. Never had she imagined this. Dick nodded, smiling and walked out, trying not to limp too badly.

"Welcome to the club, Gracie-bird!" Buck said, grabbing round her waist and walking outside with her.

"I was already a Lieutenant", she smirked up at his handsome face.

"You're on my level now – the best there is", he smiled lopsidedly, "on-par with Speirs", he trailed off suggestively. Grace glared at him and he continued, "show him who wears the pants, lady". Buck let her go and walked past her towards the men as he smacked her on the ass. He turned, walking backwards slowly and laughed at her slackened jaw, "you only live once, angel". Grinning like he just won the World Series, he playfully saluted, then strutted off.

Laughing incredulously to herself, Grace pivoted on her heel to head over to the aid truck, looking forward to a few minutes alone. Jogging up to the truck at the end of the courtyard, she could see it all packed apart from a few boxes of syrettes misplaced on top of the crate they were kept in. Grabbing them, she frowned at the box, a large knot was in the rope that held the box together. She set the syrettes down and began working on the tight knot as a voice cleared itself behind her.

"How many officers does it take to start a jeep? None – because no matter how many there is, we can never do it right", Lewis said as Grace turned around to face him.

"Hey Lew", she smiled.

He stared at her field jacket, covered in blood, and Grace stood looking back at him unapologetically, "that was some fancy footwork back there, Gracie".

"Yeah", she chuckled, "well, what can I say – I'm a fancy gal". Lew didn't respond and by the way his dark eyes were avoiding hers, she knew he didn't seek her out to shoot the shit with her. "What is it? I know you too well – you can't hide anything from me", she cut right to the chase, all jest evaporating from her voice, preferring not to dance around what she knew he would say.

"You shouldn't be here", Lew said with finality.

Her heart now pounding, Grace fisted her hands and spoke steadily, "you can't decide that. Sink wants me here and I think I proved why today".

"I'm not talking about Sink or any of Battalion", he said, searching her.

"We took Carentan, and I'm not saying I'm some one-woman army, but I like to think I was a part of that".

"That's not the point", he took a step closer to her.

"Then what is?" She countered.

Ron walked through the courtyard, his eyes darting, trying to find her. He had been all through Easy company's men, the aid station, the officer's jeeps and nothing. He spotted Nixon standing near the edge of the courtyard. Nearing his location, he saw Grace standing opposite him. By their stance, he could surmise they were having an argument. He stealthily backtracked, making his way behind the line of trucks towards Nixon and Grace.

"You can get hurt", Lewis said, staring intently at Grace. Ron caught his words, coming to a stop behind a troop truck nearby; he understood now why Grace's posture was so rigid, Nixon had confronted her about going home and getting out.

"Any of us can", she said seriously.

"You can't", Lew said in a low voice.

"Why Lew?" she asked, her patience wearing thin, "because I have a family waiting for me?"

Ron closed his eyes and breathed out evenly, hearing the pain in her sarcastic tone.

Lew flinched, "you've got mine, you could go home to them".

"And what – be best friends with Blanche?" Grace never got along with Lewis' sister, and that was _before_ the war. "I'm not the same girl; I have been at this war for four years. I have done things – many things. You think I can just go back, slip on an evening dress and sip cocktails at the Yacht Club like nothing happened?"

"Damnit Grace, I'm not saying that", Lew said, shaking his head, "you've done enough fighting already. You ran right in there today – and I couldn't stomach it. Chuck wouldn't like it".

As much as Ron agreed with Nixon, he knew he was getting desperate if he was dragging Grace's late brother into it.

"That's not fair", Grace whispered, her throat getting tight. "I left that house with Dad and Chuck and I am not going back there alone while all _this_ is still happening", she gestured around them.

"No one would blame you", Lew soothingly said.

"Jesus – I'm too involved, _way_ too involved. The only way I'm going home now is in a fucking box".

Ron's head snapped up at this, he gripped his weapon, trying not to give into the desire to make his presence known and beg her to go home now.

Lew glared at her, "are you kidding? Do not fucking joke like that".

"Lewis, this is my second campaign. I just made my second combat jump. I've been shot three times", Lew's eyes bored into hers. From behind the trucks, Ron's heart dropped, not knowing that detail. "Statistically, things do not look excellent; I might as well do some good while I still can".

"Christ, have a little hope".

"The only hope I have is to accept the fact that I'm already dead", Grace said bluntly, her insides curdling at the desperate look on Lew's face. "The quicker _you_ accept that, you'll be able to stomach anything; no mercy, no compassion, or remorse; our victory depends upon it". She almost choked on her words – amazed at the different person who possessed her in battle, on the defense, still fighting for her right to be here.

Ron had heard enough. He would not stand by and watch her sacrifice herself, but for now, he could not hear this. He quietly stalked away, feeling sick. Lewis shook his head slowly, looking away from Grace, and caught Speirs' retreating figure marching away. Frustratingly exhaling, Lewis knew he had heard.

"What about Speirs?" Lew asked quietly, watching silently as Grace's eyes begin to water slightly.

Stunned and swallowing the lump in her throat, Grace turned around to work on the knot again, which now appeared even larger. "You're pulling out the big guns today", she attempted to say neutrally, "throwing yourself then Chuck at me, and now Ron. You know all my weaknesses, don't you?" Clenching her jaw, she tugged at the knot uselessly, feeling frustrated, vulnerable, and trapped.

"I'm not bringing this up to start a fight or to force you back home, ok?" Lew said tensely, "we all know you're too intelligent, too demanding, and too resourceful for anyone to be able to take charge of you entirely", he drawled sarcastically.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She asked evenly, turned toward him again.

"You can't throw yourself in harm's way to save anyone. You have to think about what losing you would do to those men", his stressed voice raised with emotion.

"I did everything by the book today, given the circumstances. And you don't think it would tear me up if something happened to you…to Floyd, or George, Harry, Buck? If something happened to Ron?"

"He cares about you", Lew said quietly.

Grace breathed out, not wanting to believe it - and if she did, not wishing to think it showed, "who?" she whispered.

"You know who – Speirs". Looking at her carefully, he continued, "I do not want to witness the absolute destruction that man would cause if _you_ went home in a box. You didn't see him on D-Day when you hadn't turned up".

"I can't control what _may_ happen to me; if 'it' happens, it happens", she said weakly, not knowing how Ron reacted to her delayed appearance on D-Day.

Lew spoke lightly, "you've been betting on not making it out of this hell for too long. You're scared you may have something to live for".

Grace looked at him, his dark eyes searching hers, his strong jaw tense, "do you remember that quote – about what life said to death?"

"Enlighten me".

"Life asked Death, 'why do people love me but hate you?' And Death responded, 'because you are a beautiful lie, and I am a painful truth'".

Lew looked at her with exhaustion, "death may be a painful truth, but life is _not_ just some beautiful lie, and there are more people than just me who want you around to find that out". He took two strides forward, grabbed her hand and placed a small box on her palm, "another piece of jewelry to go with that necklace he gave you".

"How do you know about that?" She whispered up to him, a wayward tear slipped out and made its way down her cheek.

Lew gently wiped her face and began to walk away, "I know you too well – you can't hide anything from me", he called over his shoulder.

Grace opened the box, and inside were her silver First Lieutenant bars.

Oooooooooooooo

After pinning her new bars to a clean shirt Private Vest managed to scrounge for her, Grace pulled the clean field jacket on and made her way to a group of Easy men, all lounging beside a WWI monument. Grace shook her head mentally at the irony.

"Hey fellas, what's the craic?" She asked, leaning on the stone monument behind Alton Moore.

"The what now?" Penkala asked, laughing.

"Irish word – means 'what's up' or 'where's the fun'", Malarkey said, grinning at Grace.

"Good man, Don, you're learning something", Grace said to Malark's smiling face.

"Enjoy it while you can, we're moving out soon", Ron's deep voice spoke from beside Grace. She looked to him, his gaze sweeping over the paratroopers. His eyes snapped up to her and he shamelessly held them there.

"We're leaving Lieutenant, already?" Malarkey asked, his eyes darting between Grace and Ron.

Ron's hazel eyes stood out bright against the dirt on his tan face and they traveled down to Grace's new bars on her collar, "that's right", Grace felt her face grow hot. He looked over to Don, staring at him for a moment. He walked forward; leaving her side and Grace acknowledged but ignored the weight in her chest as it pulled towards his body. Penkala stood up abruptly to let him pass.

From her feet, Moore spoke up, "don't they know we're just getting settled here?" The contempt in his voice undisguised.

Turning around on the spot, Ron looked back towards Moore with a stare able to melt steel. After a beat, his eyes moved up to Grace, the anger dimming only a little. Her hand itched to grab her necklace under his gaze, but she stood tall, seemingly unbothered; allowing herself the pleasure of looking at his handsome face so openly.

"Congratulations on the promotion, Lieutenant", he spoke, the tenor of his voice matching his stare. Grace watched as his eyes slid down her body, when they came back up, he turned back around and walked away. Grace bit the inside of her cheek, her body suddenly on fire.

Malarkey turned his face toward her, "First Lieutenant, huh?" Grace nodded to him, stepping down and taking the cigarette off Moore's lip. "That's great, Gracie".

"Congratulations, Angel", Penkala said beside her as Muck saluted her.

"Yeah, Grace, congrats, huh?" Moore said, lighting another cigarette.

"Thank you boys", she said nodding.

"Nice Moore, real nice", Muck said to Moore.

"What?" Moore said, annoyed.

"Real smart", Muck jerked his head towards Speirs, "you know you're taking your life in your own hands. 'Aint that right?" he spoke over to Don.

Don shook his head, looking down at his hands, "I told you, I didn't actually see it".

Knowing they were talking about Ron, Grace's ears perked up, "see what?"

Penkala spoke, "Speirs shooting prisoners or his sergeant in his own platoon?"

Grace felt her jaw slacken as Muck laughed, "what? I didn't hear that one."

"His sergeant?" Moore asked, bringing his canteen to his mouth.

"Wait a minute, he shot one of his own guys?" Malarkey asked, his eyes skipping to Grace, who kept her mouth shut, hearing Lew's voice in her head.

"Well, supposedly the guy was drunk and refused to go on a patrol", Alex said conversely. "Who knows if it's true", he finished, glancing quickly at Grace.

"Well _I_ know a guy", Muck started, "who said an eye witness told him Speirs posed those prisoners".

"Why?" Blithe asked from the his position on the ground, Grace hadn't noticed him until then.

"What prisoners?" Grace asked Skip, keeping her voice even.

"On D-Day", Skip began, "Speirs comes across this group of Kraut prisoners – diggin' a hole or some such – under guard and all. He breaks out a pack of smokes, passes 'em out, even gives 'em a light. Then all of a sudden, he swings up his Thompson and pfpfpfpfpfpf…" he made a noise like gunfire. Grace could feel her heart hammering. "He hoses 'em." Grace turned her eyes to Ron's form, walking amongst his men; his shoulders back, his stance tall and imposing. She frowned at Lewis' implication – that her absence made him act. She knew Sink had ordered no prisoners – but as an officer, to do that himself? "I mean – god damn, he gives 'em smokes first? You see, that's why I don't believe he really did it", Skip concluded.

"Oh, you don't believe it?" Don asked sarcastically.

"Whoa, I heard he didn't do it", Penkala said, turning to Muck.

Grace imagined another faceless man spraying down those prisoners while a stunned Ron looked on….she had a hard time believing it _wasn't_ him.

"No, no, no, it was him alright. But it was more than eight guys", Moore said, his voice grave, "it was more like twenty".

Grace's imagination then provided her a picture of Ron, his lips tight, his face concentrated, as he hosed the German prisoners down. She took a breath and looked down to Muck, who was staring back at her.

"Hell of a shot", he said, sucking on his lucky strike.

"All expect one guys, who he left alone", Moore finished, laying down on the steps.

"Well all I know, from what I heard – he took last 105 on D-Day practically by himself, running through MG fire like a maniac", Penkala said. Grace's heart dropped to her stomach, _what an idiot_, she thought wryly, looking a Malarkey.

"Now that I _did_ see", Don said.

"On his own?", Skip asked.

"Yep", Don answered, nodding.

"I don't care if any of the other stuff's true", Alex said.

"I don't care if any of its true", Grace murmured. The men around her all stared, "he's a good officer; and mark my words – he's got the ability to save all your asses if he needed to". She turned to Moore as she walked down the stairs, "thanks for the cigarette".

Grace spotted Harry walking with his weapon out and jogged to him.

Harry smirked at her, "heard about your promotion. Congratulations. There's not a finer soldier fit for the job".

"Why thank you Harry", Grace smiled. "we moving out now?"

He nodded and called out over the courtyard, "let's go, first platoon, weapons on me; we're moving out!" He turned to Grace, "that's your cue, Gracie"

Grace smirked and called out, "on your feet!" She turned towards the monument she'd been at and saw Albert still laying down, "that means you Private Blithe".

"Nice commanding tone, you targeted out a private…I think you'll do wonders for the 101st, Lieutenant", Harry quipped.

"You don't say", Grace said sarcastically.

Oooooooooooo

Grace resisted swatting at the bugs around them as they made their way through knee-high brush. The air was damp and muggy and the light rain falling wasn't improving anything.

She made her way up first platoon, her eyes locating the familiar antenna of George's radio.

"How's it goin' Luz?" She asked, falling into step with him.

"Not too bad _First Lieutenant Grant_", he drawled and Grace smirked.

"Are you giving me shit because I got a promotion or because I'm a _girl_ who got a promotion?"

"Neither Lieutenant", Bull spoke up, "he just knows who wears the pants in this company". The men walking beside them laughed.

Grace smiled to Bull, "thank you Bull, that's a real compliment".

"Yeah, yeah", George said, nudging Grace's arm.

"Luz", Perconte spoke, "how far we goin'?"

George sighed, "oh Jesus Christ, Frank, I don't know until they tell us to stop, right Grace?"

"That's right", she answered lightly.

"High ground", Hoobler said.

"What?" Frank asked.

"There's high ground up ahead", Grace said as George sniggered and nudged her shoulder again.

"Ok genius", Frank began and George bit back laughter. Frank's eyes darted to Grace, "I mean Lieutenant".

"It's fine, Perco", Grace said.

"Ok", Frank smirked, "answer me this then: why is Easy company the _only_ company who's either at the front of an advance or – like now – exposed at the far edge of the line."

"Too keep ya on your toes", Hoobler answered.

"No, that's not what I'm sayin'", Frank continued, "I'm sayin' we're _never_ in the middle, and we're the fifth of nine companies in this regiment – Able through Item – think about it".

"If you wanna be a nurse, Frank, then by all means", Grace began to a bunch of soft laughter, "but I'm here to tell ya – it 'aint no walk in the park either".

"You see there", Hoobler began – when the quiet mood collapsed with gunfire.

Grace and the others immediately dropped to the ground and she began looking around for the the point of fire.

"Contact right!" she yelled out, "get in that hedgerow!"

The men around her scrambled to throw themselves behind the protective shield of trees and dirt clods and grass flew up around them.

Some of the men were hesitating to get up and run, so Grace stood up and ran to soldiers still laying on the wet earth to yank them up to get to cover.

"See what I mean!" she heard Hoobler yell to Frank, running by.

Grace ran to Blithe, still laying on the ground, "let's go Blithe! Come on! You need to get to cover!" Blithe struggled a bit to his feet, Grace pulled him up by the straps on his pack and he ran forward to the hedgerow.

A man next to her took a bullet through the shoulder and went down. Grace turned to him, slinging her weapon around her back, she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him through the thick grass towards the hedgerow.

As she reached cover, she pulled him to an upright position, "you're gonna need to sit up for me, soldier!" He nodded, dazed, and Grace inspected his shoulder – it was clean and the bullet had passed. She quickly got out a bandage, "you're gonna be fine, it's a clean shot. I just need to patch you up and slow the bleeding until we can get you some attention!" The young man nodded and Grace ripped off his jacket, then tightly wound the bandage around his arm and shoulder, applying lots of pressure. "Sit tight!" He nodded to her and Grace picked up her discarded weapon, kneeling up, she sprang forward and began firing to the other side.

Ooooooooooooo

Hours had passed, and day gave way to night.

Not long after the attack began, it had ended, with either side remaining in their hedgerows. Grace and Gene attended to the young paratrooper, Smithson, quickly after. He would make a full recovery after they could get him to a hospital whenever they moved out again.

The men had dug foxholes once again for the night, and Grace had been walking the line since. She stared out to the other side of the field. Thunder cracked violently above their heads as lightening answered, and she narrowed her eyes at the drunk singing coming from the German line.

"What the fuck do they have to sing about?" she muttered to herself, feeling drops of rain splatter her jacket and 'ping' off her helmet. The wind picked up and the rain hit her face, Grace closed her eyes at the cool sensation.

"Flash", came a voice to her right.

Grace turned, "thunder", she spoke, unconcerned. Harry walked through, just as wet as her and smiling.

"Grace", he said, "you're up past your bed time".

"Do you hear them singing over there? You reckon we can call the authorities for a noise complaint?"

Harry chuckled, "hell, we _are _the authorities, doll".

Grace quirked an eyebrow up at him, "care to share your canteen?" She smirked as he furrowed his brow, "I can smell whiskey from a mile away, give it here". Harry laughed and handed over his canteen. Grace bit back a groan as the warm whiskey hit her lips.

She handed it over as he spoke, "why don't you find your foxhole and crash? I'm here to relive you".

"Alright", Grace said, grabbing her leaning weapon from the nearby tree, "just don't abuse that without me", she said, gesturing to his canteen.

"I wouldn't dream of it", he replied with his dimpled smile.

Grace made her way further right towards her foxhole she shared with Floyd. As she neared, she wasn't surprised to see how many other paratroopers were in there. She spotted Floyd next to George, Hoobler, Bill, and Toye. She was surprised, however to hear it somewhat quiet as she neared.

George and Tab turned to her as she slid in, "I'll give you all a penny for your thoughts….five bucks if they're dirty", she said, winking.

"Jesus", George said, laughing.

"You're spending too much time with Wild Bill", Toye said.

"I'm not gonna take any credit for that", Bill started, "she was this way when we got her. 'Aint that right, Lieutenant?"

"You got that right, Bill", Hoobler answered, winking at Grace who chuckled.

"What's the news Gracie?" Tab asked.

"Same as it was this afternoon", she began, "they're in their hedgerow and we're in ours".

"They sending anyone out?" Toye asked.

"No", she shook her head, "just NCO's and officers patrolling our line is all. That's where I was".

"Yeah, yeah, always an excuse not to help dig the foxhole", Tab muttered beside her.

"Oh shoot, you caught me", Grace said, her eyes closing on their own, not realizing how tired she was. Her eyes shot open as she heard footsteps to their left, "flash", she whispered out. The men next to her went silent immediately.

"Thunder", Johnny Martin stepped from the tree, "cozy foxhole you got there", he said eyeing the tight fit of them all in there.

"Gracie here needs something to hold onto when she's sleepin'", George said as Grace's face grew warm. The others sniggered, knowing her habit of grabbing onto whatever was next to her when she was in a deep sleep.

"Tab, you're up for patrol", Johnny gestured for Tab to get up. Tab sighed from next to Grace and stood up, climbing out.

"We'll save your seat, Tab", George said, scooting closer to Grace as he threw an arm around her, "don't wait up, pal".

Ooooooooooo

_Grace stood facing the deep red double doors of her father's house. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she looked down to straighten her dress. She was surprised to see herself dressed in dirty, bloody BDU's. Her hands wiped hopelessly at the scratchy wool, trying desperately to remove the stains. She choked out a sob as her hands onl made them dirtier. She pulled her hands up, looking at them closely, and was horrified to see them soaked in blood. She wiped them harder, and still they would not get clean. _

_Suddenly, the front door flew open – Chuck stood before her in a paratrooper uniform. Grace squinted at the paratroopers wings on his jacket. As if hearing sound through water, she heard a deep, muffled sound and looked back up – Chuck was trying desperately to talk to her. She felt pressure in her chest as she struggled to hear him. Her head grew heavy as she became deaf all together – the silence ominous and stretching as she held her breath. _

_BOOM! Abruptly, the entire house Grace stood in front of was blown to bits, and she screamed as she felt glass and brick cut into her skin._

Grace sat upright, gasping, and breathing hard. Feeling wetness on her face, she brought her hand up and wiped – just rain. Looking around her, she spotted George next to her sleeping. She took a deep breath, remembering where she was.

Knowing she couldn't go back to sleep now, Grace gingerly got up, and made her way out of the foxhole to walk the line and clear her head.

Clenching her weapon in front of her, she walked a few minutes without coming across anyone. Grace wondered bitterly when the dreams would stop. They weren't letting up – ever since the hospital in England. She couldn't go to Lew about them, that would just give him more ammunition for her to go home and she would not give him that.

She heard twigs break to her right, "flash", she said steadily.

"Thunder", came an even steadier voice. Ron stepped through the trees, his eyes on Grace, Lieutenant Grant".

"Ron", she countered, watching him eye her, "we're of the same rank now, Lieutenant, no need for formality", she spoke cordially.

"I find that formality in a war zone is required", he said conversely and Grace clenched her jaw for her stupid comment. "Orders are we're attacking at 0500 hours".

She nodded her head, "I'll tell the men to fix bayonets". Grace studied his tan face, wet from the rain, "did you come over here to tell someone that, Lieutenant?" He fixed her with a stare before turning around to head back. Grace was suddenly frustrated and infuriated with herself, She was tired; tired of not being able to say what she wanted to him, or do what she wanted, or even _want_ what she wanted. Itching to hear his voice, she spoke out to him, "I heard what you did on D-Day." Grace watched as Ron turned around again.

Ron walked up to Grace, closing the distance, his heart racing at her statement, "we all did what we had to do", he looked down intensely at her glistening pale face as her eyes watched him; he could hear her breathing, he could feel the heat coming off her body amidst the cool rain, nearly reaching out to him. He wondered why she didn't respond to him the way the others did, with nervousness and a hint of fear – even after the cold should he'd given her, she still was bold as ever.

Grace daringly looked up into his face, taking pleasure in the way his eyes seemed to bounce over her features. If he could look at her like this once a day, she would not care if it was a reaction to her provocative words. "I heard you took the last gun by yourself at Brecourt. That's a good way to get killed".

"Running into incoming fire like you did in Carentan is also a good way to get sent home in a _box_", he spoke with subdued ferocity, his hazel eyes boring into hers. With a start, she recognized her words earlier with Lewis. Had he heard? "Nixon is right, you shouldn't be here."

Automatically, Grace's hand clasped itself around the compass on her neck, "I'm already fighting on _your_ side here. Don't make me fight two wars. I've earned my right to be here", her eyes narrowed at his, "and why do you care?"

Ron's gaze dropped to her pale hand; clutched around the compass he had given her, "you still have it?" he spoke softer.

Grace looked down, completely oblivious to the fact she had taken it out, it had become a comfort to her, "of course I do".

"Medic!" she heard a strangled voice call out.

"Tab?" she recognized the voice and took off instantly towards it. Running to Floyd's stifled cries, she could hear Ron's footsteps keeping pace behind her. She got to where Tab was and found him slumped up against a tree, Liebgott in front of him and a private standing nearby, his bayonet up in the air. "What happened Joe?" She asked evenly, walking around the foxhole to Tab's other side.

"Smith here thought he was a Kraut, poked him with his bayonet", Joe answered.

Grace dropped her gun and knelt down by Tab, "hi Floyd, can you breathe?" He didn't answer, "can you breathe?"

"Yeah, I can breathe", he answered.

Grace shoved the Kraut poncho up and over his head and pulled his jacket off, "Joe, give me your sulfa powder and your bandage." Grace looked up to Tab, who was staring at her and breathing heavily. "You are going to be fine, Floyd, ok? I'm here, you're gonna be ok".

"Here ya go Gracie", Joe handed her the supplies and Grace made quick work of patching him up. Roe came to her side a second later, watching.

"Grace?" Tab asked, a cry of pain escaping him.

Grace cleaned up his blood off his chest as Roe unraveled the bandage, "it's ok", she cooed at him, nodding, "you're perfect, I'm here and everything's ok. Just listen to my voice and keep breathing evenly for me, alright?" Tab nodded his head and Grace wrapped the bandage around his chest, stopping the blood-flow. Her mind had skipped from her conversation with Ron; one of her best friends was wounded and needed her here to help him.

From beyond the foxhole and near the cover of some trees, Ron stood watching Grace stabilize Sergeant Talbert. He watched at Talbert's eyes kept themselves locked onto Grace's face as she wrapped the bandage around his chest, listening to the constant and pleasant hum of her voice to keep him from going into shock.

Ron cursed himself for the way he'd spoken to her; he always managed to spew words out without thinking. His words always came out differently than he thought them; more distorted and foolish.

"Thanks Gracie-bird", Tab sighed as Grace gave him a bit more morphine to get through the pain for the night. Grace stroked the side of his face, smiling lightly at him.

Ron clenched his fist to his side. Sergeant Talbert was a Toccoa man, helped Grace when she first got to Georgia, helped her through her nightmares there, and they remained close. Perhaps, Ron thought, he would be the best man to see her through this war and go home with her – fall in love. Thinking the words, Ron became short of breath. Could he let her go?

Seeing things were taken care of, Ron turned and headed back towards Dog's foxholes.

Remembering Ron had followed her, Grace's head shot up and her eyes searched for him wildly, but saw only darkness.

Ron stalked through the trees and came to a halt when he heard footsteps to his side. Bringing out his cricket, he clicked it once and heard rustling. "Flash", he called out, walking from the cover of the trees.

A nervous private turned, "thun….thunder!". The young, blonde man recognized him, "Lieutenant Speirs, sir".

Keeping his eyes trained on him, he approached the Easy private, "where you going, Private?"

The man looked around him, appearing startled, "just…just checking out the noise, sir".

Enjoying the effect he had on him, Ron continued to stare, "well I just came from there, everything's under control". Ron turned, walking back towards Easy's foxholes to get this private back to where he belonged. He could hear the soldier's unsteady steps behind him, "you've got some nervous privates in your company".

"We do, sir, we do. I can vouch for that", the soldier replied.

Ron felt anger rise up his throat at the private's tone. It was men like this that Grace was throwing her life away for; scared boys who would not do the same for her. Remembering her words from earlier, Ron spoke, stopping at the edge of a nearly empty foxhole, "they just don't see how simple it is".

The man came to his side, "simple, what is, sir?"

Ron squared his jaw at the private and glared, looking down at the foxhole. The private clumsily fell into it, "just do what you have to do", he said, letting go of what Grace had said earlier. There was no need to scare the private any more than he already was.

"Like you did on D-Day, sir?" Not about to dignify the gossip, Ron turned around about to walk away when the private spoke again, "Lieutenant, sir, when I landed on D-Day, I found myself in a ditch all by myself. I fell asleep. I think it was those airsickness pills they gave us. When I woke up, I didn't really try to find my unit…to fight….I just…I just kinda stayed put".

Ron knew someone with this sickness of fear had no reason being here, no hope of surviving; and thinking about what Grace had managed to do on D-Day all by herself, what he had managed to do, made his blood boil. He had heard other regiments in England laugh at the fact the 101st had a woman among their ranks, but Grace _had_ proven and earned her right to be there one hundred fold, and knowing this made Ron feel hatred towards himself for telling her she shouldn't be here. Fixing the private with a stare, he spoke, "what's your name, trooper?"

"Blithe, sir. Albert Blithe".

"You know why you hid in that ditch, Blithe?"

"I was scared", he whispered.

Ron shook his head, "we're _all_ scared." He knelt down on the edge of the foxhole, "you hid in that ditch because you think there's still hope, but Blithe, the only hope you have is to accept the fact that you're already dead." Ron caught sight of a tear making its way down Blithe's face and he continued, "and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able to function as a soldier's supposed to function: without mercy, without compassion, without remorse". Satisfied that he'd gotten the reaction he was looking for, he smiled lightly, "all war depends upon it."


	15. Chapter 15

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

There's a reason this story is rated 'M'…consider this a forewarning.

Grace held Floyd's hand as she sat next to his warm, breathing form. She was huddled against him, protecting his wounded side from the constant drizzle. The 101st had secured the roads forty minutes ago and an aid jeep should have been around. Grace had kept him awake singing songs to him and telling him stories about Lew as a child, but she let him doze off for a few minutes just to rest his eyes.

She turned to look at his face, forcing a lump down her throat as she remembered his strangled cries. He'd been scared, but Grace managed to keep him grounded. Reaching her hand out, she brushed a wet lock of hair from his forehead. Seeing this man who had become like a brother to her, wounded and in pain rocked Grace to her core. It was more difficult than anything she had been witness to with the British. With them, she was not let into any of their circles of friendships, they never even used her name; loss for her then was black and white. With Easy Company, it was a completely different story. These incredible men had become the family she thought she would never have again.

Taking a shaky breath, she felt that familiar emptiness in the bottom of her stomach; that feeling of wanting to cry, but nothing came out. It was like a sickness, a sad sickness – when your heart is heavy and breathing hurts. Every soldier knows this feeling once they had seen combat, and Grace had known this feeling often – too often.

She heard careful footsteps approach and looked up to see Gene, "the jeep is over at the end of the line".

Nodding, Grace rubbed Tab's hand and smiled at him as he opened his eyes, "you let me fall asleep", he whispered.

"I was watching you, you were safe", she said softly back. He turned to Gene, "I'm taking him with you".

"The jeep is here for you Talbert", Gene said to Tab who nodded.

Grace untwined herself from Tab's side and stood up, holding her hands out to him. Gene stood on Tab's other side as he took Grace's hands and stood up, grimacing. Gene helped Tab out of the foxhole and gaining his balance, Tab reached for her. Grace clambered out and held his hand.

"Looks like I'm gonna beat you back to England", he said through gritted teeth.

Gripping his hand tighter, Grace smiled softly, "you'll hold the fort down over there, we'll meet you in the pub soon enough".

George sat up from his foxhole, hearing a few different sets of jump boots approach. Looking beyond a lightly sleeping Malarkey, he saw Grace holding Floyd's hand and Doc Roe on his other side.

He climbed out of his hole, "good to see you up Tabby-boy. We'll see your handsome mug over in England."

"You can bet on that George", Tab replied, holding his hand out; they shook, smiling meaningfully at one another. Tab gestured to Grace, "I know she's a warrior and all, but keep an eye out for this one, huh?"

"Will do, Sarge", George replied, eyeing Grace's serious, downcast face.

The medic from Dog Company came up to them and Grace recognized McAllister, "Here to help, Doc Roe".

Gene nodded and turned to Grace, "since you have to stay here on the line, I'm taking another medic with me. Will you report to Speirs that his medic will be back soon?"

Grace didn't miss George and Tab staring her down, "Speirs wasn't there to tell him yourself when you left?"

McAllister shook his head, "no, Lieutenant, I think he was out patrolling the line".

Grace nodded, "I don't mind telling him".

They bid their goodbyes to George, who kept his eyes on Grace. All the other men had had chances to come to terms with what happened to them all individually on D-Day and after. He knew Grace had kept herself busy and hadn't had that chance.

After a few minutes of walking, they made it to the jeep. Gene ran forward with McAllister to greet them.

Not missing the opportunity, Tab turned to her, "gatta go talk to Speirs, huh? That's convenient for you", he said with a smile.

Grace ignored him and smiled at his face, thanking God he was standing before her and able to have this conversation with her. Too many times she'd seen accidents like Tab's end tragically, "you take care of yourself, ok?" She felt her exterior crack under his gaze as her vision blurred and she looked away.

"Hey", he whispered, his eyes searching hers as she looked back to him, "you're gonna come back to England and I'm gonna save your pretty face a dance – if I have room on my dance card".

Grace smirked, "_if_ you have room".

"Yeah, you think those nurses are gonna be able to resist _this_?"

"I'll miss you, Floyd. I'll see you soon", she said.

"I'll miss you too Grace", he responded, bringing her hand to his lips and giving her a kiss on the back of her hand.

Gene and McAllister ran up and Gene nodded to Floyd, who squeezed Grace's hand, smiling. Helping him into the jeep, Tab turned and held up his hand. Grace nodded and did the same, blowing him a kiss as the jeep drove away.

And suddenly, she was alone.

She felt like she would never leave the battle field, that this war would be a pageant of greetings and partings – all those she had grown to love , moving on, leaving her here perpetually, permanently. She wondered if this state of loneliness would never relieve her. Grace welcomed the loneliness – preferring it to pain, but deep down she would rather feel the pain than the numbness.

Grace needed Ron. Her heart sputtered back to life. She felt like she should avoid him, avoid the sea of emotions she was forced to navigate when he was looking at her; but she needed to report to him about McAllister. Regardless, she shouldn't have to avoid him, avoid her emotions – things like that was how dishonesty and betrayal started; not in big lies, but in small secrets.

Navigating her way to Ron's foxhole was easy – she knew it would only contain him. She was right. Nearing it, she recognized the familiar set of his broad shoulders, the angle of his helmet. Seeing a small billow of smoke float up from his face, she knew he was awake.

"Ron", she called softly; referring to him as 'Lieutenant' felt cold – and she yearned for some sort of intimacy with him.

"Grace", he responded softly, almost gently, and Grace felt herself let go of the breath she'd been holding.

"Your medic, McAllister, accompanied Roe to the aid station; he'll be back", she said, feeling light-headed.

Ron's eyes managed to anchor her a bit, "yes, I know", he paused, "are you alright?" He spoke those words with such tenderness; Grace lost her nerve and couldn't answer without fear of dissolving into the unshed tears she had held onto since the jump. At her silence, Ron abruptly stood up, "come here", he whispered. He held his hands out as Grace leaned forward to step down. She looked up at him, took either hand in hers, then stepped down into his foxhole, her feet coming to rest in between his, "when's the last time you slept?" he asked softly, not letting go of her hands.

Taking a breath, Grace shook her head, "couple hours – here and there".

Clenching his jaw, Ron studied her face – paler than usual, he could see her struggling to hang onto the war machine she had created out of herself. Her breathing measured and deliberate, Ron focused on the slight crease between her brows that hadn't slipped off her beautiful face since D-Day.

Ron reached forward and smoothed out the line gently with his index finger. Grace's eyes slid closed as he touched her, "sit down", he offered, stepping back against the wall of his hole. Grace let go of his hands, took off her weapon from around her shoulders, and sat down beside him.

Grace let herself luxuriate in his warmth; it was bittersweet. She craved, absolutely desired for comfort in this moment, but she restrained herself from reaching out to him. In reality, there was no one to go to. She didn't want to go to Lewis – doing so would only serve as evidence for him, plus she didn't want the other officers to see her vulnerable like this. George, Bill, or Don were other options, but as their superior officer, Grace didn't feel she should burden them – even though they wouldn't care. Here, with Ron, her heart nearly sang in contentment but her head was telling her to keep her distance – for he seemed to share Lew's sentiments about her being here. Her thoughts jumped to Floyd and she squeezed her eyes shut at the image of him writhing up against the tree.

Ron shifted his arm up and enveloped Grace's still, cold form. Draping his arms protectively around her, he pulled her close, flush against him. With her this close, Ron could feel her trembling, "you should get some sleep".

Absently shaking her head, "Grace spoke softly, "I can't". Turning her body towards his so her cheek rested on his shoulder, she whispered, "I'm afraid – every time I close my eyes, I dream".

He could feel her light breath on his neck and his arm slid down to her waist, hugging her to him, "I'll be here. You don't have anything to be afraid of when I'm with you".

Grace rested her free hand on Ron's chest and pressed her palm over his heart, amazed at their proximity, her ability to become vulnerable with him, "I keep dreaming about D-Day, on the plane." She kept her eyes open, staring down at Ron's chest, "Lieutenant Meehan was married".

"Grace", Ron whispered, putting his other hand over hers, about to continue when she interrupted him softly.

"I'm broken", she said, "I have all these jagged edges where pieces were broken off. If I live through this….there's no way to fit in with people anymore".

"We're all broken after seeing war", Ron said, his heart breaking for her, "we _all_ have those pieces missing now". Grace was breathless at the tenderness and conviction in his voice. "I was wrong before and I apologize – you _do_ belong here. You are a good officer and soldier".

Grace blinked at the raindrops that rolled off his face and fell onto hers, "you heard my argument with Lewis earlier in Carentan", she said, unquestioning.

"I did- only part of it. I'll admit, I walked away after you said you'd only go home in a _box_". Grace heard the pointed tone in his voice. She didn't know what to say, so she gripped onto his jacket and squeezed. His hand over hers smoothed soothingly over her skin, "you are _not_ going home in a box".

"But you want me to go home", she whispered.

"I want you to be safe".

"I want the same for you", she turned her face towards him, "you can't be careless".

He frowned slightly at her face, extremely close to his, "I'm never careless".

In the haze of exhaustion and sleep deprivation, Grace boldly let her eyes study his face, "do you know what happens when you hurt people? They begin to love you less. That's what careless words do – they make people love you a little less".

Looking into his eyes, she was stunned by the passion burning behind them, "I never want to hurt you".

Grace slipped her hand off his chest and brought it up to his face. Breathing evenly, she placed her palm on his jaw, her fingers gently curving around his neck, "I know", she whispered. Grace could feel his heart pound within her chest; she was pushed up against him fully – her hips against his side; with each breath he took, she felt her breasts press against his chest, "everyone sees what you appear to be, but few experience who you really are".

Ron took an unsteady breath, watching her dark, misty eyes drop to his lips. He felt absolutely torn – he knew what this woman meant to him, but they were in the middle of a war. He couldn't get attached, he had promised…but it was too late, "you're referring to the rumors about me?" He spoke, attempting to distract himself from her tickling breath on his lips, from how much he wished to pull her to him.

Unaffected by his question, Grace shrugged, "I'm referring to it all….the talk about you started long before Normandy". Feeling high from his skin on hers, his voice vibrating in her body, she pushed her fingers up into his hair at the base of his neck.

Ron's eyes slid closed at the sensation, biting his lip to contain a sigh, "the same could be said about you", he purred as Grace's hand stilled, "you threw the 101st into a tailspin the moment you walked into Toccoa", he mused, using his free hand to place his fingers on her face. Dragging them lightly down her cheek, he smiled – lost in her – as she kept her eyes on him and leaned into his touch.

"Any woman who chooses to behave like a full human being should be warned that the armies of the status quo will treat her as something of a dirty joke", she said confidently, "and I'm used to making an impact".

"I gathered as much", he whispered, leaning towards her – then pausing as her eyes darkened. Oh, how he wished to kiss her, but, "I can't", he breathed out.

'I don't care", Grace said, her fingers sliding back into his hair and pulling him towards her, his lips pressing against hers.

Acting on instinct, Grace gently pulled herself on top of him; her legs on either side of his hips. Her helmet clinked on his, so she pulled it off her head, dropping it beside them.

Ron heard her helmet thud onto the ground and he followed suit, taking his off with one hand while keeping her lips moving gloriously against his with the other around her neck. Her kiss was unbelievably soft, yet needy and heated. Only registering her position on his lap when she swayed her hips against him, Ron groaned softly and his hands snapped to her hips – gripping them and keeping her still; she would be the death of him.

Grace had never been this bold before with any man, ever. The deep, intangible aching in her chest that made an appearance when Ron was near, was throbbing with pleasure at their intimate embrace. Never had Grace felt this magnitude of physical need.

Ron kissed her deeper, both of them breathing hard as he felt her thighs squeeze together. Tilting her face up, Ron began kissing down the pale column of her neck, the possessive beast in him growling with pleasure as Grace gasped at the feeling, her hips once more making slow circles against him. Bringing a hand up, he caressed her neck as she bent down to capture his lips once again.

Sighing into his mouth on hers, Grace's heart raced as she felt his hand run down her neck, to her collarbone then down her shoulder and coming to rest on the side of her rib cage near her breast. She felt him hesitate to put his hand where she wanted it most, "Ron", she panted out against his lips, met with pant and a kiss from him. His hot breath on her lips faltered dejectedly as the kiss slowed. "Ron", she whispered again, grief flooding her heart as his warm hands dropped from her body. Both of them became still, gazing at one another. Softly brushing his hair from his forehead, Grace felt a tear brim over and she felt ridiculous for pushing him, "I'm sorry", she whispered, moving to get up, embarrassed at her behavior.

"No", Ron said, holding her to him, "I am." He stroked her face, gathering her tears on his fingers, "we can't do this".

Numbly nodding, Grace stood up, feeling like a scolded child, "I need to go back to Easy". She picked up her gun and slung it over her shoulder as Ron stood up.

"I'll walk you back", he said strongly, putting her helmet on her head, then his own.

"No need, I'll be alright", she waved him off, stepping out of the foxhole.

"Grace", he said pleadingly, regret coldly washing over him.

"It's ok, Ron", she said neutrally, cutting him off, looking into his stressed face. If he didn't feel the same way for her, it pained her but she didn't care. She was in love with Ronald Speirs, and she would be until the day she left this earth – whether that day be tomorrow or the next. "It's ok", she quickly walked away, darting through trees towards Easy before he could call out or follow her.

Ron's heart thudded painfully against his ribs. Clenching his fists to his sides, he mentally berated himself. He could tell Grace had walked away embarrassed – she had _nothing_ to be embarrassed about. If they hadn't been in a foxhole, General Eisenhower wouldn't have been able to pry Ron's fingers from her body if he had tried. Ron knew his unusual position – he was afraid that their separation and distance would be for the best; but for the first time, he had found someone he hated leaving, someone he could not get enough of. Grace was a puzzle piece with jagged edges that matched his own and fit him perfectly. He found someone with whom he was rapidly falling in love…and he had just let her walk away.

Grace came to a stop in front of her foxhole. Glancing at her watch, she saw she had a couple hours before they'd prepare to attack. Steadying her breath, she slid in, squishing herself in between Bill and Don, across from George. She slung her weapon off her shoulder, careful not to disturb the sleeping paratroopers, and placed it at her feet. She turned towards Bill, whose eyes were open and on her.

"You ok, Angel?" he whispered, his accent calming Grace's nerves. She nodded, feeling a tear on her cheek quickly joined by another, Bill's face changed, alarmed, "Gracie, come here".

Grace pressed her face to his chest, his arms circling around and holding her tight, "I'm sorry", she whispered, not wishing to do this to him when he should be sleeping.

"Don't say that; nothing to be sorry about", Bill whispered, sweeping his eyes over to George and Don who were now both looking at him seriously. They had all stayed up waiting for Grace, knowing that Tab's injury would trigger something. George pressed his lips together, knowing Grace had also gone to speak to Speirs.

Bill kept a hold on her, feeling her breathing even and slow after ten minutes indicating she had fallen asleep. Nodding to the two other men, they closed their eyes, getting a couple hours shuteye before another battle.

**Pease, please, please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

A HUGE thank you to **Ally Smith** for your review; I truly appreciate your compliment and your time to review.

Grace woke up, feeling something warm and _breathing_ shift under her. Opening her eyes and praying it was Ron, that their sour goodbye last night was only a bad dream, she peered up.

"Morning Angel, you like blueberries with you pancakes?" Bill gazed down at her, smirking.

Ignoring the sound of the chuckles coming from the men around her and sitting around their foxhole, she sat up and grimaced, "geez, I'm sore all over".

"That's what all the dames say", Bill grinned as the other men laughed and Grace pushed his chest.

"Shut up Bill", she murmured, smiling at him in thanks for what he had done last night and for ripping her to show nothing had changed between them.

Leaning back, she saw Don still next to her and George across from them, with Liebgott, Toye, Hoobler, and Perconte all gathered around their hole. Grace smirked, wondering absently why she always ended up in the most crowded foxhole.

Needing very badly to stretch, Grace sat up straight and closed her eyes, enjoying the sound of the men's voices bouncing around her. She slipped off her helmet and tilted her head to the side, rolling her shoulders, a small smile forming on her lips. She could use a massage….and a long bath….and a tall, cold glass of Champagne...preferably all at once. Biting her lip at her muscles groaning, her arms gracefully floated above her head, and leaning gingerly against the wall of their foxhole, she arched her back, a breathy sigh unintentionally escaping her lips. Relaxing against the wall, she opened her eyes to see seven pairs of eyes on her.

"What?" She asked softly, her eyes darting around.

"Jesus Christ, Grace", Toye murmured, as Liebgott shook his head, smirking incredulously.

George spoke, pulling out his cigarettes, "only _you_ could make _that_ look tempting in filthy BDU's".

Grace sniggered at their faces – all shades of lust. Shaking her head to herself, she knew she did not need any more education on what it was like to be the _only_ woman in the paratroopers.

Turning to Bill, who kept his mirthful eyes on her, she smiled and spoke softly, "I like chocolate chips and whipped cream on my pancakes".

The men beside them laughed and kept talking.

"Make sure you let Sparky know that", Don said under his breath to her and George passed her his cigarette.

Feeling like she had been kicked in the gut, she kept her face neutral as she took the cigarette, smiling tightly at George. She saw his dark eyes trained on her, and she was reminded that he was aware that she spoke to Speirs last night.

"What – no response?" Don asked. George kept his gaze trained on her as Grace took a drag and exhaled slowly.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Don", she spoke evenly, her heart painfully beating. She let the cold regret wash over her violently; she should not have done any of _that _last night. Even as vulnerable as she may have been, she still felt like a fool.

"You know you can tell us", Don insisted, gesturing to Bill and George – obviously not recognizing a coiling rattlesnake when it was in front of him

"Just 'cuz you're wearing those silver bars don't mean we can't see you like a sister", Bill said, eyeing her.

Grace looked at George, who remained silent, "you got your two cents to throw into the pile here?" George shook his head slowly, "good; because there's nothing to tell". She nodded to George in thanks at George for the cigarette, and then wordlessly climbed out of the foxhole to find Harry.

"That didn't look like nothing to me", Bill said to them.

Oooooooooooooo

"Do we know what we're up against?" Grace asked Harry, who handed her a map.

"No, we don't know what they've got", he replied as Hoobler plopped beside her, putting his head over her shoulder too see the map, "we may be talking a weaker force".

"Or more paratroopers", Grace said, Harry nodding, Martin peering at the map beside him.

"And we know how _they_ can be", Hoobler drawled next to her and Harry smiled.

"Fire and maneuver", Grace said, "that's the name of the game", she caught eyes with Bill, perched nearby with Frank, "fire and maneuver".

Harry nodded as Grace handed him back the map, "Dog and Fox companies will be on our left flank moving with us – any questions?" Grace and Harry looked around, their NCO's shaking their heads, "let's make 'em holler".

"It's nine in the evening back home", Frank said, looking at his wrist full of watches, "must be…"

"INCOMING!" Someone yelled, causing the men to scramble for cover, diving into their foxholes. Grace felt someone grab her arm and pull her roughly to the ground.

"Get that OP in!" She heard Harry yell beside her, letting go of her arm.

"Go! Lock and load!" She yelled over the sound of fire to the men around them. Crawling up to George's foxhole, she spotted a Private dash up from behind them and take a bullet to the torso. George grabbed him, pulling him to cover as Grace grabbed his radio receiver, "Easy six, Easy red six! I've got mortars all across my line. No sign infantry yet. I'm pulling the OP in! Over!" Harry turned from beside her, gesturing for their mortars to fire.

The groups on either side of them began firing their MG's, "that's it – find your targets!" Harry yelled.

"Stay low!" Grace hollered to the pair maintaining their gun next to her. Grace spotted German infantry attempting to maneuver onto a hill. She crawled over to Guarnere, "Bill – tell your men to reverse – we need to cover the crest of that hill!" He nodded, jogging low over to his men.

Crawling up to a fallen tree beside Liebgott and Smokey, Grace positioned her M1 and began targeting their mortar men. Firing a couple rounds, she managed to take down a handful of them.

"Gracie!" Harry bellowed from her left. Instantly, she was horrified he was injured until she saw the binoculars to his face. Grace ducked down and ran to him. When she reached him, he put his binoculars down and pointed to the field.

Grace turned and paled when she spotted the giant gun barrels pointing out of the trees – German tanks, "where the hell did they come from?"

Harry put the binoculars back up to his face and Grace squinted, watching the tank slow, point, aim, and fire. "Holy shit – there goes our left flank!"

Knowing Dog and Fox were flanking Easy's position, Grace turned and watched the black smoke from the tank clear the trees – she saw retreating paratroopers, "they're pulling out!" She yelled to Harry, horrified. Not only was Easy now left alone with those tanks…Ron had been there. There was absolutely no way Ron would abandon the line…unless…

"Who the hell gave that order?" Harry screamed.

Standing up, Grace ran back behind their gunmen, "keep firing, stay low!" She knew they had all seen the tank and saw Fox and Dog retreat – they needed encouragement

Grace could feel her head throbbing – she felt as though she was being ripped in two. Keeping her head low, she jogged behind the men, maintaining her confident, commanding tone; inside, her heart was excruciatingly lurching with every beat. Was he alive? Did he need medical help?

She quickly made her way back down the line to Harry. Dropping to the ground beside him, gripping her weapon, she acknowledged the festering desire coursing through her veins that needed nothing more than to run to him and make sure he was still breathing.

The only way to quiet the bubbling hysteria was to pick up her gun. Firing everything she had at the Kraut line, Grace breathed into her fear, letting it change and morph – falling away with every with every spent shell on the ground and giving way to a blinding ferocity.

The tanks had turned to Easy's line and began firing on them. When the stand of trees beside her and Harry exploded, she spotted an unmanned bazooka.

She slung her weapon around her shoulder , "on me Harry?"

"You got it Grace – let's go", Harry responded, seeing her eyeing the bazooka. Grace immediately ran forward, grabbing the long anti-tank weapon. Harry ran behind her, shouting over to Bill, Bull, and Johnny, "COVERING FIRE!"

"What the fuck?" Bill yelled to Johnny.

Johnny's eyes grew wide as he pointed, "they've got a bazooka in the open!"

Bill turned to see Harry and Grace sprinting out in the open with a bazooka over Grace's shoulder, "holy shit!"

"Covering fire, boys!" Bull yelled to their men.

"Down here!" Grace yelled, feeling Harry run up behind her. She propped the bazooka up over her right shoulder, gripping onto the trigger as Harry loaded the missile into the back.

Grace's eyes darted to the oncoming tank, watching the German officers on the Kraut line order their men to fire their way. Dirt began to fly up around them as the German soldiers' shots hit closer to their position.

"FIRE!" Harry yelled.

Aiming awkwardly, Grace fired – and watched as the missile hit the side of the tank, not stopping it. "SHIT!" She yelled furiously.

"Reloading!" Harry called out. Grace grinned manically – if there was anyone she should be out here with her, it was Harry. The tank, now knowing their position, turned – heading straight towards them, "hold your fire!" he yelled and Grace nodded, not caring they felt too close.

"Keeping it steady!" she shouted, her jaw clenched and seeing red. She felt Harry's hands supporting her back as he finished reloading.

Grace held her breath as the tank crept closer, yards from them and pointing the barrel their way. The tank fired, blasting through two trees next them and tearing through their line. The power from the blast knocked Grace and Harry down, sending a large spray of rock, dirt, and debris over them. Grace scrambled to get back up and aim once again, seeing the tank pointed perfectly for a direct hit to them.

Harry steadied himself behind her, "NOW Gracie – FIRE!"

She fired and watched as the missile tore through the belly of the tank.

"Let's go, LET'S GO!" she yelled to Harry who was holding the amo pack and running beside her. As soon as they turned, the missile detonated, rendering the Kraut tank useless.

From the brush, Dick watched as his two First Lieutenants ran back to their line from the smoking tank.

"Covering fire!" He hollered over his shoulder.

Buck dropped to a knee beside him, "is that who I think it is?"

"Welsh and Grant, yes!" Dick shouted back.

Sprinting back to their line, Grace dove through a space between Liebgott and Smokey, Harry landing on top of her after.

"You're insane Gracie!" he yelled, on the same adrenaline high as her.

"Takes one to know one", she called out to him as he moved off. They crawled up, getting down between Smokey and Joe.

"You hit a homerun, huh?" Joe yelled to them, maintaining fire.

"You got that right", Harry called out as Grace pulled her weapon forward again.

"MEDIC!" Grace heard the call from her direct left and spotted George next to a severely wounded man.

Scurrying over to him, she saw the man's wound on his neck. Pressing over the wound, she felt for a pulse with her other hand – nothing. Shaking her head at George, she ducked as they got fired upon.

She grabbed the MG in front of them and turned to George, "we gatta keep firing!"

Laying next to her, he nodded, grabbing the rounds as Grace began firing to the advancing Germans. Feeling a rumbling, she looked to the left – and saw US tanks emerge from where Dog and Fox had been.

"Shermans!" George yelled in relief beside her.

"Oh you beautiful babies!" Harry screamed from their left.

Grace repositioned the MG to the now retreating Germans as the Shermans began expertly shooting on the Kraut line and tanks.

"Come on, pour it on 'em!" Smokey called as Grace opened fire relentlessly on the now fractured German line.

"Out of rounds" George shouted. Grace dropped the MG and picked up her M1, aiming immediately for the last few Germans who were dumb enough to aim back. Enjoying the smell of spent shells and wet earth, Grace got up on one knee – pulling the trigger in a set rhythm; fluidly aiming proficiently after every kickback. Hearing the high-pitched ping as the clip emptied, Grace rapidly reloaded and opened fire again.

The second it took to reload was long enough for her to think about Ron. She choked on the wave of passion that hit her; her throat closing. She was not supposed to walk away from him like that; that was not the way things would end between them; that could not have been the last time she would see his face.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled the trigger, grunting every time. The clip emptied just as the Shermans overtook the German line and Grace took a heavy breath before dropping to the ground beside George.

Catching her breath, she turned to him. He sat looking at her with his big brown eyes and two lit cigarettes in his mouth.

He handed her one, "was it good for you?" Carefully watching her reaction, George saw her grimace lightly instead of smile as she looked him over.

"You're bleeding", she said, her voice slightly hoarse. Pulling out a bandage and keeping her cigarette dangling off her lips, George felt her hands shake as she wrapped the bandage around the surface wound on his neck, "you alright?"

Grace nodded, "yeah, I'm alright". She patted his cheek and stood up, "I gatta go make sure Doc Roe's got enough help".

Walking past Harry and Joe, both of them smoking, Harry saluted her as Joe called out, "hell of an aim, sweetheart".

"Cheers, Joe", she managed to say neutrally, attempting another smile and failing once again. Walking faster, she spotted Gene hunched over a wounded man, "what do you need, Doc?"

Oooooooooooo

"I'm giving you morphine so you'll be comfortable on your way to the aid station", Grace said calmly to the wounded Private on the stretcher.

"You're not giving me a ton of that so I fall asleep and don't wake up, are you?" the young man asked her, alarmed.

"You _will_ wake up, I promise", she said, eyeing the large gash in his leg, "believe me – you want this". The trooper nodded his head, squeezing his eyes shut as she administered the shot.

"Lieutenant Grant", Grace looked up to see another young Private addressing her.

"Yes?"

"Captain Winters and Lieutenant Nixon request to see you".

"You make it sound like we're facing the firing squad, Private King". Grace heard Harry's voice and peered around the tall, lanky private – and there was Welsh and his impish smile, standing feet away.

Sighing, Grace nodded to another medic nearby to take over for her, "where are they?"

"They're sittin' high and mighty up on the hill", Harry answered for the Private, "we got this, King, you're dismissed". The Private shrugged, then walked off lighting a cigarette.

"How much trouble are we in?" Grace said, walking with him.

"Trouble? Pffffft – do _we_ look like trouble?"

"_You_ always do".

"Oh funny", he laughed, "and you're some angel?"

Grace smirked, "they don't call me that for nothing".

Harry shook his head, "an angel who drinks whiskey".

"I don't hear anyone else complaining".

"Who's complaining?"

Cresting a small hill, Grace spotted Dick and Lew standing with Buck and talking. Grace's gut fell to the ground as she suddenly realized they might be calling them to inform them of the officers' causalities suffered from Dog and Fox.

Digging her nails into her palms, she gritted her teeth and kept pace with Harry for fear without his constant steps, she would stumble from terror. Examining Lew's face as the approached, she Grew nauseous; his eyes were tight and his posture rigid.

"Grace, Harry – good to see you both", Dick said as they came to a stop in front of them.

"You too", Harry said, "all of you". Grace nodded, unable to string a sentence together. Avoiding Lewis' intense gaze penetrating only on her, she kept her eyes on Dick.

"I called you here just for a simple briefing", Dick began.

Lew spoke up, "Lieutenant Speirs informed us of your action with the M9 bazooka".

Grace instantly looked to Lew, his dark eyes measuring her reaction. Ron informed them? He's alive? Possibly wounded? Is he alright?

"That was all Grace – I just loaded the thing", Harry said, gesturing to her and Buck sniggered.

Grace looked at Harry, "well it takes two to tango, Harry". She looked to Dick and nodded "right after the German tank wiped out our left flank, I spotted the M9 on the ground. I asked Lieutenant Welsh if he was on me – he was – so he shouted for covering fire to Guarnere, Martin and Randleman, then we took off, sir".

"The first time we fired, we were in a bad position", Harry continued, "but that second one was a homerun".

"We saw it all", Dick said, "myself and Buck".

"Couple of crazy's", Buck murmured.

Dick nodded, "he's right – but you saved a lot of Easy men today. Good work". With that, he walked off – Buck and Harry in tow, talking.

Grace stayed put, clenching her jaw and looking to Lewis.

"Grace", he started.

"Is he alright?" She interrupted him, the haunted look on his face frightening her.

Lew appraised her worried expression – having seen the same look on Speirs' face moments before, "yes, he's fine". Searching her tired eyes, he suddenly realized, "so _that's_ why you ran into the open with nothing but a bazooka".

**I know it's short…PLEASE REVIEW!**


	17. Chapter 17

_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

A gigantic, profound THANK YOU to **Claire-Alice**, your review quite literally made my day. Also thank you to **Raging Raven** for taking the time to review.

Aldborne, England - September, 1944

_Still in England_

A series of cancelled operations managed to keep the 101st on friendly shores. The men were understandably ecstatic about the R as was Grace, but she had begun to run out of tasks to keep her occupied.

Sitting beside the window by her bed up in her billet, Grace absently thumbed the white rose in her hand.

Earlier that day she had visited Chuck, her father, and her mother in the cemetery that was near Aldborne. She had brought with her four roses; one for Chuck, Dad, Mom, and herself. It had been the first time she went to the cemetery since she had buried her father and Chuck – one week apart. Her father wanted to be buried in England – her mother was buried there; in a nearly ancient family plot. Grace and Chuck were raised Catholic, but her mother was Protestant; when she died, her family wanted her in English soil. As long as the war between the Orange (the Protestants) and the Green (the Catholics) had raged on, Grace knew her father wouldn't care where he was so long as it was beside his wife.

Grace remained in the cemetery, still and contemplative, for three hours, sitting atop Chuck, next to his headstone. She didn't speak, only stared at the vacant strip of green grass beside Chuck; the space that, she knew, was meant for her.

Would she live to see January? Or would she ring in the New Year six feet under, forever in England, alone. The light mist turned heavy as she pondered – calmly – if it would be easier to die. It wouldn't have been the worst thing to happen. People who think that dying is worst thing do not know anything about life.

With a sudden pang, she had realized how alone she was in the cemetery. Just her and the raindrops that had begun to fall as she left. Grace had walked to the cemetery; even though it had begun to fall harder and she could feel her BDU's begin to cling to her, she was intent on walking back. It felt productive, for she was frightened; with each passing moment, she was becoming part of the past. No future in her horizon – just the past steadily accumulating.

Standing up, stiff from sitting on her bed for so long after returning back, Grace walked to her door while stretching. Dog, Fox, and Easy Company officers had been billeted in a decent hotel in Aldborne, for which Grace was thankful. She hadn't been keeping regular hours and if she was billeted with a family, she would have to be mindful of all the noise she made at nights. Grabbing a towel, she padded her way down the nearest stair well just outside her door to get to the communal showers. Being six in the evening, she knew none of the officers would be around now; all of them had made their way to the pub. She promised George, Bill, Malark, and Lieb that she would meet them there.

This time around, she had her dress greens – Sobel wasn't around to lift them off her. Dick – being the perfect gentleman he was – told her with a knowing smile, should she find a dress, she should wear it. Smirking while throwing off her sticky BDU's, Grace wondered where the hell in Aldborne she'd find a dress. She'd just have to put up with the stiff, uncomfortable, completely unfeminine dress greens. It certainly was curious, Grace thought while turning on the shower, how when the men donned their dress greens they would fight off attention – but when she did, she was practically ignored.

Stepping into the hot spray, Grace sighed as her skin broke out in goose bumps. She soaked up the feeling of the warm water beating her back gently – she knew they'd move out again eventually, and when they did, it'd be for the long haul. Washing her hair, she tried to banish her thoughts to relax, but try as she might, _he_ was always there – on her mind.

She had been ignoring Ron.

Since their moment in his foxhole, Grace could not bring herself to speak to him. She'd seen him on a jeep when they left France, days after the hedgerow battle. His back was to her as she climbed in her jeep next to Buck. It was like someone had let the air back in the room; it had been the first moment she saw him since Lew had told her he was safe.

She was also avoiding Lewis.

There was no lying to him – he knew she had feelings for Ron. She was not interested in getting into that territory with him – not while sober anyway.

Slumping her shoulders under the steamy water, she knew it would all catch up to her eventually. She could not run from it forever, could she?

A tiny bubble of resentment nestled its way uncomfortably beneath her heart – she needed release: emotional _and_ physical. The boys were able to gallivant all over Aldborne; flirting with the pretty girls, buying one too many pints, get their rocks off in a roll in the hay with some English dame.

Grace couldn't do any of that.

She was a well-bred young woman, but that certainly did not mean she didn't have the same urge as the men did.

She completely was – as the Glenn Miller song said – _In the Mood_.

Grace was exceedingly frustrated. Love and lust came tied together for her – the only man she wanted to satisfy her every need…was Ron, and they couldn't.

The age-old question presented itself to her: to touch OR not to touch; to jump Ron the next time she saw him and get a trial by Court Martial OR do nothing and fester – silently and slowly.

Leaning her forehead on the cool tile and taking a breath, Grace's eyes slid closed. She concentrated on the muffling sound of the shower; the constant drops tapping her skin, gathering droplets and rolling down…

_He had gripped her hips when she moved against him on his lap; he sighed, breathy and hot._

Breathing the steam of the shower in, she could almost imagine him there with her.

_His perfect lips moved exquisitely against hers, greedy and desperate. His hand moved her face gently to the side and he continued his heady kiss down her neck._

Grace's stomach lurched erotically as she bit her lip, her hand sliding up her stomach.

_She desperately wanted him to touch her. To hell with protocol – they could be dead tomorrow…he was nearly there, his warm hand inches away…his breath flooding her mouth…_

"_We can't do this"._

Grace's hand dropped from her flushed skin, his voice echoing patronizingly in her memory.

"God damn it", she muttered, shutting off the water and grabbing her towel, wrapping it quickly around her body.

Peering around the cream curtain, Grace made sure no one had come in to use any of the five other showers in the long bathroom. Confirming she was alone, she grabbed her clothes and walked briskly to the door; she knew no one was around – she would just change in her room. She needed to get out of the thick, hot steam – suddenly needing cool, fresh air.

Her clothes under her arm, she grasped the cream towel around her and went to grab the doorknob.

….when it opened.

Startled, she looked up into a penetrating hazel gaze.

Grace suddenly wished her towel was much larger.

Ron was nothing short of surprised to see her; he thought the hotel was deserted. Unable to help himself, his eyes quickly swept over Grace's naked shoulders. Stalling for moment on her hands, grasping at the small towel, he clenched his jaw at her pale, pink skin, her breasts straining against the fabric. Refraining against the urge to grab her waist and get rid of the offensive towel, he swallowed thickly.

"Hello Grace", he said, his voice hoarse.

Finding her voice, she breathed back, "hello Ron".

Awkwardly and demonstrating breathtaking restraint, Ron stepped to the side to let her pass. Grace nodded as she moved past him, her hands wanting nothing more than to touch him – take another shower…this time with him. She cursed her luck – what would she give to have caught_ him _out of theshower. Ronald Speirs probably looked like a God in just a towel. She averted her face to the ground, her skin alight in an obvious blush.

Ron groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as Grace fled up the staircase, back to her room. Their tryst in his foxhole was already playing on repeat constantly through his mind – what was one more tempting image of Grace, _wet and nearly naked_, to add to his mounting…._frustration_.

Grace skipped up the stairs, her heart beating in her ears…then promptly fell through her body as she saw who was standing before her, right outside her room.

"Holy shit", Bill said, smirking at her, looking her up and down, whistling appreciatively.

Grace could not believe her luck.

Don's jaw dropped and Joe turned around, "holy Jesus…", Joe murmured, licking his lips.

"You a believer now, Lieb?" Malarkey asked.

Grace's cheeks flamed as Joe grinned, "I see the light, Malark".

She rolled her eyes, "fuckin' hell", she muttered under her breath.

George's eyes were wide and his cheeks went as pink as Grace's skin, "Gr…Grace".

"What are you doing?" She asked them quickly in a hushed voice.

"Sweetheart, _I'll_ do Whatever. You. Want.", Don snarked.

Grace narrowed her eyes, "that's _Lieutenant_ sweetheart". Don's smirk faded as Joe nudged him, sniggering.

"Lieutenant Nixon sent you a package", George clarified as Bill chuckled at the innuendo. Grace eyed the brown paper package as George continued, "we were seeing you received it". Looking over to Joe, holding the medium sized brown box.

"He sent you over with that?" Grace asked.

Joe nodded and smiled boyishly, "I can help you open it… if you'd like to invite me in".

George, Don, and Bill shook their heads slowly as Grace smirked darkly and sauntered over to Joe. His dark brown eyes intensely regarded her as she neared, gripping the parcel in his hands. Grace stopped, inches from him, "today is _not_ the day to tempt me with such things", she spoke lowly, watching as his eyes glazed over her chest. Taking the package from him, she continued, "if there is _any_ talk of this at the pub, I will be holding you personally responsible". Nodding to Bill as he opened her door for her, she slipped inside, shutting it loudly with her heel behind her.

Joe let out the breath he was holding, looking over to the other guys, "I do not want to know what she'll do to me if this got out".

George grinned, "is that a dare?"

Throwing her clothes onto the armchair, Grace regarded the regarded the brown package thoughtfully.

"Want us to come get you later?" Bill called to her from behind the door.

"No thanks, I'll meet you hooligans there", she called back.

"We'll save a seat for you, doll", George said.

"I'll save a dance for you!" Don shouted.

"Love you Gracie-bird", Joe drawled.

"Yeah, yeah", Grace laughed lightly, hearing their boots retreat from her door.

Turning her attention back to Lew's package, she sat on the edge of her bed and placed the box beside her. She gently ripped the paper off and slid the lid open. Inside, a folded note sat on top a bundle wrapped in tissue paper. Grace picked up the note:

**Doubt thou the stars are fire;**

**Doubt that the sun doth move;**

**Doubt truth to be a liar;**

**But never doubt I love.**

Smiling softly, Grace was touched; the quote was from Hamlet. She knew what he meant by it – he may be overbearing and protective, but in truth, he only does it because he cares. Pulling the tissue paper away, Grace bit her lip at the pretty black dress inside. Tucked in was another note:

**You've gatta love Shakespeare for breaking the ice. Don't give me any lip for this – I wanted to. None of the higher brass are in England and Dick wanted ****everyone**** to have a good time tonight. **

**You owe me a dance…or two.**

**Lew**

Smirking now, Grace pulled the dress out. It was beautiful – a low, square neckline, structured short sleeves, and body hugging until the hem, right above her calf. Shaking her head, Grace was about to drape the dress over the box to get ready when she spotted something else inside: new sheer black stockings. She nearly squealed – with rationing, she had no idea where Lew picked those up.

She most certainly _did_ owe him a dance …or three.

Oooooooooooooooo

Curling one's hair is like riding a bike – you never forget how to do it. Grace marveled at how she was able to style her hair again and do her makeup without batting an eyelash; figuratively of course.

From the outside, she probably appeared quite simple: pretty girl putting on a new dress and heels, checking her hair and lipstick, going out with the soldiers. In reality, Grace knew the shiny illusion was plainly that, an illusion: she had seen many soldiers die, she had killed some of them herself, she'd spent more nights in a muddy foxhole than most.

Gazing at her pale, unblemished reflection, Grace focused on her eyes. The same dark hazel they had always been stared back at her, but the youthful quality they'd regained in Toccoa had evaporated the morning of June 6th.

Should she be going to the pub? Is that what Lieutenant Meehan and all of the other men they had lost would do if they were here?

Surely, Grace could not – and was not expected to – carry the cross of the fallen forever. That wasn't healthy.

Life goes on, right?

Visually, Grace could see that she looked pretty. She felt….sinking…a sinking feeling…like _she_ was sinking. She closed her eyes to her face in the mirror.

_Tonight is not anything, it was just her and the boys and a few pints._

More like a full handle of whiskey.

Retrieving her rucksack, Grace pulled out Chuck's flask. Silver with a gold top and his initials _CSG_ – Charles Seamus Grant – engraved in gothic letters on the side. Grabbing the bottle of Jameson she scrounged, she filled the small flask up to the top. Dropping it into her black clutch, she swept out of her room, not sparing the mirror a final glance.

Oooooooooooooo

Grace sighed deeply as she neared the pub, the sight in front of her very familiar: Paratroopers pouring out of the entrance, arms wrapped around a nurse or local girl; billows of smoke twirling in the cool air; booze flowing and music unending; smiles, and laughter; the fight feeling very far away.

She needed a drink.

Stopping by a lamppost, she expertly pulled her flask from her clutch. Fluidly unscrewing the top, she took a swing Chuck would be proud of.

"That'a girl".

Grace smirked, holding the flask over, "evening Lieutenant Nixon".

"Lieutenant Grant", he took a swing and handed it back. "Drinking _before_ crossing the threshold of the pub…that's new for you".

"It's been one of those days", she slipped the flask back and turned to him, looking him over, "you look very handsome".

He smirked that Nixon smirk at her, "you flatter me".

Grace walked forward and put her arms around his neck, "I'm sorry, I've been avoiding you."

"Were you? I did not notice".

"Cute", she smiled, "thank you for the dress. It's gorgeous".

"Jesus, _you_ are gorgeous", he leaned back and gestured to her. "You forgot to thank me for the stockings".

Grace laughed, "how could I forget the stockings?"

"You do not want to know what I did for those".

"You didn't steal them, did you?"

"Not _off_ anyone", he offered. Grace pulled back, laughing.

"I didn't know the party was out here", Lew and Grace turned to see Buck walking towards them.

"Wherever _I_ am, that's where the party is, Compton", Lew said.

"Uh…_correction_", Grace said, pulling her flask out, "party's right here".

"That's my girl", Buck took a swig and handed it back, "come on, the boys are gettin' rowdy".

Walking in, following behind Buck, Grace heard Lew mention 'bar' and saw him stalk off in that direction. Buck kept walking towards the back, near the dartboard.

"I come bearing gifts", he called out to the cluster of tables. Turning to her, he smirked, "well…._one_ gift". Grace quirked her eyebrow at him, the urge to take another swig overwhelmed her as she felt the men's eyes land on her.

"There she is!", Harry said, smiling, taking her hand and sitting her down to him. He leaned in, whispering, and Grace could smell scotch, "so…I hear through an anonymous grapevine that you were caught today".

Grace clenched her jaw, "caught….doing _what_?"

Harry sniggered, "oh come on, you think those guys wouldn't brag about _that_?" Grace remained silent and looked over her shoulder, spotting Joe avoiding her gaze. Beside him, Bill raised his glass to her, smacking Joe on the back. "Buck!" Harry called.

"Right here, pal", Buck said. Harry smiled, gesturing to Grace, his eyebrows dancing. Buck shook his head, "I need to catch up to you, Welsh, you look like you're having a good time".

"You know what I'm talking about, right?", Harry said.

Buck's steel blue eyes turned on Grace, "yep, I know. I heard…and I'm jealous".

Grace's face was burning as she looked over to the bar and spotted a group of girls, giggling and looking over to Easy, "I'll be right back".

She took another swig of her flask and stood up. Grace sauntered over to the bar confidently and smiled to one of the girls.

"Hi there", the blonde said.

"Hi", Grace responded.

"You seem friendly with the boys", a brunette spoke good naturedly.

Grace smiled, "oh yes, I know them really well. Which is why I came over".

The blonde perked up, poking her group of friends to listen, "what's the story?"

"See that guy over there?" Grace pointed to Liebgott, who was staring at her incredulously. The women nodded and Grace turned back to them, her face grave, "he's a _terrible_ kisser". The women shared knowing glances with one another and Grace continued, "the cute one behind him", she gestured to George, "he's fantastic". The blonde grinned, elbowing the brunette and Grace smiled, "us girls have to look out for each other". The women laughed and nodded, telling their thanks as they sipped their drinks and began to talk excited amongst themselves.

From her other side, Lew spoke up, "that was cold".

"He was warned", she said.

"I got you this", Lew said, smiling and handing over a whiskey on the rocks.

"Feeding my habit…thanks Lew", she said, "I'm going to go back over and drink my feelings". Grace walked away pretending not to notice the girl who was rubbing Lew's neck, or that Lew wasn't wearing his wedding ring.

As soon as she got back, George headed straight to her, "what did you say to those dames, Gracie? They keep looking over", she held up her hand and smiled.

"I told them Joe was a horrific kisser", George laughed, "and I also said you were a phenomenal one", she finished.

George grinned big, "and how would you know?"

"I don't".

"Care to find out?"

Grace looked over to the bar, "if I did, it looks like I'd have to get in line". George smirked, winked at Grace, and headed over to the bar and his new fan club with most of Easy hot on his heels.

Figuring she'd done her good deed for the day, Grace sat back down and stared at her drink. Sighing, and feeling restless, she looked around her and realized she was alone. Buck and Harry were playing darts, as misguided a decision as that may be; all the boys were at the bar or dancing; and Lew was making time, flirting with the girl she'd seen.

So much for a guaranteed dance partner.

It's strange how one moment, if familiar, can throw you back to another time. The music swirling around her, the excitable chatter, the cigarette smoke, the sweet smell of whiskey, and the loneliness – Grace was back in the states, at one of the numerous parties of her youth.

She was an accomplished actress, she could smile and deflect and pretend that everything was alright when she was on fire inside. Lewis and Chuck, handsome and dashing as they were, were the stars of the parties Lew's parents held back at home. Back then, Grace had only craved a drink, a slow song with the right partner, and contentment.

The loneliness brought her back to those familiar parties. It was hollow, and uncomfortable, and familiar. It was like starvation: you do not realize how hungry you are until you begin to eat.

Grace put the glass to her lips and tossed the drink back.

She brought out her flask and filled it up again.

Looking up, she spotted Ron standing near the bar.

"Gracie!" Muck yelled, walking up with Penkala and Don.

"Feel free to talk us up whenever we're out", Bill said, taking a seat with Toye.

"The girl's got connections", George drawled, taking a seat next to her. Grace smiled, noticing their flushed faces and new pints. _Tipsy._

"Three miles up", Grace held out her whiskey; the more they drink, the less they're apt to know she was getting drunk.

"Three miles down", they finished, clinking glasses. Grace threw it back and filled it up again, her eyes searching for Ron.

Ron was standing at the bar with another Lieutenant from Dog, and two women. There was one with black hair , talking to the other Lieutenant. The other one, with strawberry blonde hair, was smiling up at Ron. He appeared to be smiling back and Grace's heart lurched, looking to his arm, where the strawberry blonde's hand was resting.

**I wanted to churn another chapter out for you guys.**

**The other one is on its way – stay tuned.**

**REVIEW!**


	18. Chapter 18

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

"Needless to say, that was the last time I saw that dame", Toye said, grinning.

The table erupted into laughter. Beside Grace, Harry spilt his pint and Buck and Lieb laughed at him. Grace's head was floating, she giggled, enjoying and welcoming the warm and fuzzy blanket that only whiskey could provide.

Her eyes flicked back to Ron, still with the strawberry blonde. She bit the inside of her cheek, raising her glass to her lips again as the woman dragged Ron to the dance floor.

"Where's Nix?" Buck drawled.

"Beats me", she replied dryly. Lew had gone missing with the girl he was at the bar with ages ago.

"I got another story for ya", Toye rasped.

"You've been talkin' all damn night, Joe", Bill said.

Grace held her hand out to them, speaking impulsively, "Jesus – Joe can talk all he wants. I could listen to that man recite the damn dictionary".

"What are you saying?" Joe asked.

"She's saying you got a nice voice", Don clarified.

"Is that right?" Joe said, grinning.

"Shit, yes", Grace said, frowning at her empty pint glass.

Joe winked, "next one's on me, doll". He strode off, empty glasses in hand.

"So Joe's got a nice voice", Bill started, "what about me?"

"What _about_ you?" Harry snarked, a new pint in his hand.

Grace smiled, "you've got a jaw women fawn over and an attitude that won't quit", Bill's eyes twinkled as he smiled at her.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Jesus – you can't take a compliment?" George drawled.

"Shut up".

Grace smiled, "_all_ the girls love George Luz".

"Whaaaaat?" Penkala said, looking at George's smug grin.

"Look at those big eyes! They love him", Grace said, gesturing to George.

"I don't see it", Lieb said.

"You don't have to", George replied.

"Lieb here has that walk…you know…that confident walk that gets the girls going", Grace said.

Joe smirked, "you think that'll help me out tonight?"

She shrugged, "maybe". She laughed at his crest fallen face, "gimme a break – you do not need any help scoring a date, Joe".

"Don't be too sure about that", Muck said as he and Penkala led two nurses to the dance floor.

"What about me, Grace?" Don asked. Immediately, Grace's cheeks grew warm.

"She's blushing!" George yelled.

The table they were sitting at had only their close group huddled around it: Grace, George, Don, Bill, Lieb, Toye, Buck, and Harry.

"What's up with the pink cheeks, Angel?" Buck teased.

"Oh shut up!" She laughed, "now you can't make fun of me for this".

They all laughed as Harry spoke, "come on, would _we_ do that?"

"Yes", Toye said, grinning.

The entire bar was three sheets to the wind and there was no sign of the party stopping.

Grace laughed as she looked at them, "I am the only girl in a group of men – I am _surrounded_ by you!" At their drunk, clueless faces, she continued, "you think I didn't look at you all changing into your PT gear when we were in Toccoa?"

"Ha ha ha! What?" Buck laughed.

"Innocent Grace, leering at me?" Don said.

"Innocent", Grace and George scoffed together.

"So…what about Malark?" Bill asked.

"Have you ever seen him without a shirt on?" Grace said, her face hurting from smiling so much.

Harry stood up, "well, Malark, let's see it".

"Sit down Welsh", Buck said, sniggering at Don's red face.

"Muscles or not, no one has anything on Buck's eyes", Grace said dreamily, batting her lashed in Buck's direction.

Buck grinned, "you are a riot when you let loose".

Grace shrugged, "I seem to have lost my filter".

Harry turned to her, "I hear your accent more tonight".

"She's from Ireland", Don said, winking.

"It comes out more when I've been hittin' the drink", Grace lifted her pint to her lips again.

"I like it, it's cute", Bill slurred.

"Aw, ain't that sweet", Buck laughed.

"I'm certainly learning a lot tonight", Joe said, downing his pint.

Grace smiled and winked, "for a rounded education, curl up with a good book…or a bad librarian".

"Well said", Toye said, nodding mischievously.

"Here, here", Bill stuck his glass up; the group clinking their glasses together.

The conversation carried on as George sat beside Grace.

"What's going on over there?" he said quietly, only for her to hear.

Grace knew what he was referring to – Ron dancing, still, with the annoyingly persistent strawberry blonde.

Grace's eyes dropped to her half-empty pint, "maybe I don't really want to know what's going on. Maybe I'd rather not know". She looked over to Ron, taking in how close they were to each other; his hand pressed to her lower back, "maybe I couldn't bear to know".

A void in her chest was beginning to fill with anger – quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed her right to hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand. She looked over at George's caring eyes, smiling lightly and shrugging – hoping he didn't see how it affected her.

"Let's dance", he said.

"You don't want to dance with me", she smiled, "go ask one of your girls".

"I'm askin' you", he said, holding his hand out.

Grace grinned and took his hand and he led them to the dance floor where a slow number had started. Her eyes found Ron among the sea of couples; his eyes flashed to her face, to her hand clasped in George's. George gave it a small squeeze as he pulled her close in time with the beat. Grace closed her eyes, trying to prevent herself from staring at Ron – trying to focus on George and not fall over in her heels from all the drink's they've had.

She found herself humming to the song, 'In a Sentimental Mood', "you sound nice", George said.

Grace giggled, realizing she'd got caught, "thanks. You're a swell dancer".

"Swell? You know what they say, you're only as good as your partner".

"Aw, thanks George".

He paused, "did you really check us out in Toccoa?"

She laughed, "tell me – if _you_ were the only man in a room full of dressing women – wouldn't you look?"

"Touché".

"Just because we're women doesn't mean we don't have the same urges", Grace pulled away from George, looking at his wide eyes, "we just hide it better than you do".

"Good to know", he smirked. Grace got close again, her chin resting on his shoulder, "you ok?" he murmured.

"Yeah, I'm ok", she said, "I miss Floyd".

"Me too", he said. After a beat, "what did Speirs do?"

"What do you mean?"

"That night in the hedgerow".

"George", she started.

"Don't lie, Gracie", he said softly, "I'm not gonna tell anyone".

"I know that", she paused and looked down, her fingers playing with George's jacket shoulder, "I went to talk to him…"

"To report about his medic, McAllister".

"Right. I did that….and", Grace looked back up to Ron – his eyes were on her. She held them there for a minute, feeling them weigh her down and draw her in. For a moment, she could have sworn she was dancing with him. The strawberry blonde twirled herself around, causing them to break eye contact, Grace's stomach dropped – she wasn't in his arms, and she didn't know if she ever would be again, "we kissed".

George's face snapped to hers, "you kissed Speirs?"

"Yeah. _Really_ kissed, like hot and heavy stuff".

"Jesus – in a foxhole and all", George had a smirk in his voice, "he's a lucky man".

"He pulled away from me…said we couldn't".

"He's an idiot", George said lowly and Grace sniggered, "you think I'm kidding, I'm not".

"He's right".

"He's _what_?"

"He's right, George. We're Lieutenants, this is a war", she said frustratingly – why was she constantly reminding herself of this?

"All the more reason", George said. Grace began to shake his head and he cut her off, "you only live once, Gracie". He looked her over and shook his head slowly as the song ended. "I'm not blind, I see the way you look at him…and the way he looks at you".

"Oh good, so we're obvious?"

"No – it's only because I know you so well", he assured her. "Whatever happens – you know I'm here for ya, doll."

Grace smiled, "I know…and ditto".

George grinned, taking her hand and leading her back to their table, "it's actually a good thing Floyd's not here".

"Why's that?"

"He'd take a swing at Sparky if he knew what you just told me".

Grace sat back down, Buck winked at her, sliding over another full pint. Looking to the bar, Grace saw Ron…alone now. Even with all the alcohol floating her around, her heart felt like throbbing lead. She wanted him to feel what she felt when she was with him, when she looked at him. If only she could reach out and project to him; the incredible, heady combination of comfort, decadence, and wonder; the undeniable truth that, with just a single taste of him, she was addicted.

As always, Ron's eyes landed on hers.

They stared at each other, wanting each other, drawn to each other – but their silent shout of love went unheard in the roar of misunderstanding, and the clatter of their ingrained beliefs.

Oooooooooooo

"There she is", Lewis called out to Grace..

She turned sharply on her bar stool, Buck holding onto her, nearly falling over, "where the hell have you been?"

"Ha!" Harry barked.

"Owe you a dance my ass", she drawled as Buck threw back his shot.

"You've been busy", Lew said simply, looking over all the empty glasses on their table.

"Chide us all you want, Nix", we've been having a good time", Buck said, smiling.

Lew ignored him and held his hand out to Grace, "care to dance?"

"Who…with _me_?" Grace giggled.

"Good God, Angel", he laughed.

"I'm just kidding", she stood up and took his hand, "I've been waiting all night to dance with you".

"I don't sense any sarcasm there", Lew said. They got out to the dance floor and Lew held onto her tightly, "Christ, you're drunk".

"Everybody is".

"Yeah, but it's been a while since I've seen _you_ drunk". He quirked an eyebrow at her, "what have you been up to tonight?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know".

"I'm taking away your flask".

Grace scoffed, "oh please – you've done some pretty hypocritical things…but _you_ acting stern about me drinking threatens to rupture the very fabric of space and time".

"Now there's the Gracie Grant I know".

"Was I missing?" She smiled up at him, "I've been here all night…unlike some of us".

Lew frowned, "I ditched that broad hours ago".

"Like you ditched your wedding ring"

"I'm not responding to that".

"I'm just saying – I notice these things".

As the song ended, Grace looked up to see Ron – _God, would fate give her a break tonight_? He was still at the bar, finishing his drink. He turned to the dance floor and looked around. His eyes found Grace, he set his shoulders and made to walk towards them.

Grace's heart constricted and she impulsively grabbed Lew's hand, "let's get out of here".

"You getting fresh with me?"

"Come on", Grace pulled away from him and headed to the door.

Turning, Lew saw Ron – standing at the edge of the dance floor, glaring towards the door. Lew swiftly grabbed Grace's clutch and walked outside. Grace was standing awkwardly under the lamppost.

"You don't want to dance with him?"

Grace shrugged, feeling stupid, "he doesn't want me".

"He sure fooled me".

"He only came over because I've been staring like a moron all night. There was a girl he was with".

Lew regarded her for a moment, "what do you want?"

"What?"

"From him – what do you want from him?"

"All of it", she laughed, but there was something brittle in the sound that broke his heart, "I'm selfish and greedy and I want it all."

"You've got it bad", Lew said as they began walking.

"What about you? What was that girl…and your ring?"

"Cathy doesn't write me, hell – she didn't talk to me when I was back home. She lives for the cocktails and parties, that's it – you know that."

Grace could plainly see his defeated posture, "I'm sorry".

"Hey – it's ok, I've screwed up my life so I can make sure you don't do the same".

"You didn't screw your life up".

"I shouldn't have married her, I should have waited…"he trailed off. Unsure of what to say, Grace took his hand and swung it as they strolled – both of them uneven on their feet.

"Hang on", Grace said, stopping. She pulled out her flask and took off her heels, "hold these", she handed him her heels and took a swig from the flask. "Trade!" she said, taking her heels back and handing over the whiskey. "You asked me what I want", she said thoughtfully as they walked slowly – side by side, passing Chuck's flask between them, and her holding her heels.

"I did".

"I want to be the girl he's scared to lose", she said softly, "the one he can't walk away from, the one he wouldn't know what to do without".

"You _are_ all that already", Lew said, handing the flask back.

Grace didn't recoil from the bite of the whiskey anymore, "feck….he sure has a funny way of showing it".

"What would you say to him?"

"If what?"

"If…anything. If you could say anything."

Grace took another swing and stopped, handing it back to Lew, "you wanna hear that?"

'Yeah, I do".

Grace looked at him sternly, took a breath, and spoke from her heart, "when I see you – the world stops. It stops and all that exists for me is you and me staring at you. There's nothing else – no noise, no other people, no thoughts or worries, no yesterday, no tomorrow, no war. The world just stops – and there's only you". Lew stood still, his eyes serious on her face as she continued, "when you're gone, the world starts again, and I don't like it as much. I can live in it – but I don't like it. I just walk around in it and wait to see you again – and wait for it to stop again". She laughed humorlessly, "Jesus". Kicking a stone down the middle of the road, she spoke again, "I just want him to be happy. If it's not with me, I don't care".

"You care", Lew started, "but…true love begins when nothing is looked for in return".

"When did you know you were in love?" She asked softly.

He took a swig and handed her back the flask, "I don't really have an answer; there hadn't been one specific moment. Not like it matters anyway". He looked at her pensive face for a beat, thinking, "it was like gradually waking up. It's a slow process, but once you're awake, there's no mistaking it's love". She took a swig and gave the flask back to him. His dark brown eyes held hers, "do you love him?"

"I…", she started, stopping herself, "I can't tell you".

"What? Come on".

"I don't want to admit it".

"Why?"

"Because I do".

"Well, you just admitted it right there".

"Oh…shit", she laughed lightly, "it's ridiculous really".

"Why is that?"

"Because we're separated – everything separates us, even our efforts to join each other".

He smiled sadly, "to love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything – even a dog – and your heart will be wrung out".

Grace took the flask from him, "true love is felonious – you _take_ someone's breath away, you _rob_ them, you _steal_ a heart", she took a long swig, enjoying the warmth run down her raw throat.

"Love is no game", Lew said as they stumbled along the dark road to the hotel, "people cut their ears off over this stuff; they jump off the Eiffel Tower".

"That's right", she nodded as he stole the flask back from her.

"Fuck", he swore.

"What?"

"Flask is empty".

"Ugh, well – it's just as well", they trudged up the steps to the hotel. Lew began to follow her up the two flights of stairs and down the hall straight to her quarters, "where do you think you're going?"

"To your room", he said simply.

"Are you serious?"

"I forgot my key".

"Oh sweet Jesus", she opened her door and Lew made a bee-line for her bed, immediately collapsing on it. She walked in, throwing her heels and clutch onto the table by the window. "Lew?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm in love with him", she said. Lew opened one eye to look at her as she continued, "I'm love with his scars, his faults, even his fears; his smile and his deep eyes and the emotion they can never mask".

"Speirs is capable of smiling?"

"Shut up", she smiled, "that's not the only reason why I fell for him. If I'm honest – I fell for his sadness".

"His sadness?" Lew said.

"I know it sounds crazy. And I don't mean it literally; I feel for him because he wasn't afraid to frown. There were no pretenses, no plastic smiles, no changing the subject. He was real."

"Why don't you tell _him_ all of this?" Lew slurred, now half-asleep.

Grace looked over to Lew's sleeping form and smiled softly, feeling melancholy. She had just admitted her greatest weakness. Lew already knew, but saying it aloud made it all too real, as if she could no longer control it.

Outside, the sky was a deep purple-blue – in a few hours the sun would be up. Throwing off her dress, Grace pulled on her Paratroopers PT shirt and BDU pants and jump boots.

There was no way she could _just tell_ Ron – unwarranted, unprovoked…perhaps even unwanted. What could she possibly give him? She was a soldier first, woman second; when she closed her eyes at night, she saw machine gun fire and dead bodies, not pretty dresses and handsome escorts. She was damaged goods, and she was so busy trying to forget all she'd had to do, that she couldn't take a single step into the future. There was an intangible danger moving into the future toward new horizons and far directions – she feared that if she walked away from what she had now, she may never find anything but loneliness.

That strawberry blonde had perfectly tanned skin, rosy cheeks, and youth in her eyes. Her skirt flared out from her small waist gorgeously and Grace couldn't help but compare. She was _everything_ Grace wasn't – right down to the coloring. Blonde versus brunette; tan versus pale; extroverted and innocent versus contemplative and jaded. Her dancing steps and gait were calculated and lady-like while Grace was bold and reckless.

Ron deserved someone who was worthy of him.

Leaving her hair down and her makeup on, she shoved her key in her pocket and walked out. She needed some fresh air.

Ooooooooooo

There was something about being alone in places that were usually filled with people that made them seem particularly empty when it was just you, Ron thought solemnly as he walked back to the hotel. He felt especially raw this evening – he was being pulled in many different directions and once he'd made up his mind about one thing, something else would cut him short.

That woman – he didn't even remember her name – kept hanging on him, around him all night. Ron only stayed to be near Grace.

Ever since France – when he saw her fearlessly run out into the open with nothing but that bazooka – he couldn't shake the image and the overwhelming need to be near her. He had been simultaneously awed and horrified. As a woman, she was undeniably stunning; as a soldier and officer, she was beautiful, but beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: wild, volatile, untamable.

Ron certainly had no desire to tame her – she was perfect as she was. He desired simply to be in her presence; whether she paid him any attention or not. He possessed a honed imagination – and with as close as he'd gotten to her, the desire to become impossibly closer was overpowering.

To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment one can bring onto themselves.

Walking up the stone street, Ron heard music crooning out one of the windows. He stopped under an unlit street lamp, the sun would be up in a couple hours and someone clearly thought the party wasn't over.

Right then, with Ron's eyes on the front door and his hands pulling out a cigarette, Grace walked outside.

Swallowing thickly, Ron stupidly thought to dive behind a building. Instead, he held his ground, holding the unlit Lucky Strike between his fingers and her nearing form with his eyes.

She did a small double take as she saw him, yards away. "Evening", she said.

He inclined his head, "evening Grace".

They were silent for a moment, regarding one another.

"You're getting home late", she commented lightly.

Ron's eyes roamed her face, "I took the long way home. I needed time to think…alone".

Grace turned toward the hotel, "who's playing the music?"

Ron didn't answer, nor did he look at the hotel. He kept his eyes on her, "dance with me".

Grace hesitantly turned to him, searching his serious and handsome face. She couldn't say no to him. She walked towards him and softly nodded.

Pocketing the cigarette, Ron drew her in with one arm around her waist and one grasped her hand.

Grace's head was swimming now for another reason other than whiskey. As right as this felt, it was bittersweet; the moment would end, as it always did, and Grace realized how truly painful that was.

For the first time, she become conscious of her real feelings for him, and with his arms around her and her arms around his neck, the warmth gave way to a buzz no liquor in the world could hope to replicate. It was wrong, a crime – that she would have to walk away from her heart, from everything. She loved him – he was the reason why, the reason why she was still breathing.

The minute her warmth mingled with his, Ron wanted to ask her what sound a heart made when it broke from pleasure, when just the sight of someone filled one the way food, blood, and air never could; when one felt as if they'd been born for only one moment, and this – for whatever reason – was it.

"Did you have fun tonight?" Her voice was so soft, Ron wondered if he'd heard her at all.

He thought of saying yes, but he couldn't lie to her, "no". At her silence, he continued, "I don't like being pestered".

She looked up to his face, "pestered?"

"I would have rather done this", he spoke evenly.

"Done what?" she tested, getting bold.

Ron smirked, "do I have to spell it out for you?"

She smiled innocently, "I guess you do".

"Are you always this combative?"

"Combative?...yes".

"You're infuriating", he concluded endearingly.

"It's part of my charm", she shrugged.

"Is _that_ what it is".

"And you call _me_ infuriating".

"Well, it takes one to know one", he said.

Grace shook her head, enjoying the familiar banter, "you make me so mad I could throw you into oncoming traffic…but then I realize, I'd probably kill myself to save you".

Ron smiled warmly at her upturned face, his eyes searching hers. It was the first time they'd been alone without some pressing event – Dday; the hedgerow. Ron knew it wouldn't last – the blissful feeling of being alone with Grace.

"SHUT THAT GOD DAMNED MUSIC OFF!" Someone yelled out the window.

"BITE ME!" another voice yelled back.

Ron's heart sank – he recognized _both_ of those voices from his company; his eyes flicked over to the hotel. Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his cheek.

"Those your men?" her eyes were bright, shining up at him. This was the end of this moment, she knew. Soon, they'd be moving out – and she had to prepare herself for the indifferent attitude she would inevitably receive from him. She hated to leave the bubble, but she had to – with dignity. Smiling sadly at him, she leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek, "duty calls Lieutenant". She pulled out of his embrace – she would end the moment herself this time, she couldn't bear to hear him reject her again, "goodnight Ron".

Nodding once, he replied, "goodnight Grace". Watching her walk back to the hotel, he saw her in a way he had never seen her before; looked at her in a way he had never looked at anyone before. Standing there, his arms still warm from her body, he truly saw her, for everything she was and is and would be someday.

Ron realized then how much he loved her. He loved her like the world was beginning and ending all at once.

But could he ever truly have her? Was it too late now?

In a brilliant and agonizing second, his heart filled with the most inexplicable joy and then burst into a thousand pieces, filling his chest with the piercing shrapnel of a broken heart.

He loved her – and that was the beginning and end of everything.

**Thank you to everyone's who reading, reviewing, and alerting/favoriting this story!**

**I'm far from over….it's only going up from here.**

**Please, please REVIEW! Tell me what you're thinking!**


	19. Chapter 19

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

I know it's been a while – and HUGE apologies must be made to all of you for alerting, favorite-ing, reviewing….it keeps me going. My supervisor at work was let go and I'm picking up ALL the slack….so I've been exhausted. I'm back on track after some rest and am ready to tackle this chapter! I case you're worried: I AM NOT – NEVER, EVER – ABANDONING THIS STORY. There are some gigantic plot points/twists that I am too excited about to stop now.

**So PLEASE keep reading and reviewing! **

Grace methodically placed one foot in front of the other as she left Ron under the dim lamppost. Breathing becoming painful, she squeezed her eyes to the stinging behind them and clenched her fists at the cold September breeze that sliced at her. Her body buzzing like an exposed nerve, her heart thrumming in her chest, she clutched at the compass around her neck.

To be _that_ close to him – _alone_ and _touching_ – and to pry herself away…

She had to leave him because she did not have it in her to hear him say _'we can't do this'_ one more time. She had to be the one to end the moment and preserve a shred of dignity. But after the action had passed and she turned away from his inviting warmth and depthless gaze, her resolve crumbled and she wanted nothing more than to run back to him.

_When had he stolen her heart?_

She smirked miserably, _he never stole it…she handed it over long ago._

Grace knew battalion would have them moving out again soon, she could feel it, and she knew in her heart the possibility of another moment happening, like the one they just had, was slim-to-none once they moved out.

She walked into her room, the bed and armchair softly illuminated in a navy blue glow from the window. Spotting Lew's form curled on her bed, his shoes and jacket strewn on the floor, she swallowed a sigh. Slipping her shoes off and throwing her pants to the floor, she climbed into the bed in her PT shirt and shorts.

She took a deep breath, trying to be quiet for Lew beside her. After _all_ that's happened…she's in love? She knew she was. But….was he? Did it matter? Did she have enough time on this Earth to care if he didn't? Her love for him was her own…and no one could take that away from her. Grace felt a multitude of emotions; she was nearly drowning, she couldn't get a good breath.

As practical as she could be on the battlefield, she was a dreamer at heart; and every dreamer knows it is quite possible to be homesick for a place you have never been to…perhaps more homesick than for familiar ground. Grace had never felt like this for _any_ other man… her whole soul felt heavy as lead, yearning to be in _his_ bed, in _his_ arms.

Grace shifted to her side, her heart throbbed, constricted, strained, and hurt gloriously. There was no name for what she was feeling – at this moment or for Ron in general. There was no description for this perfect marriage of agony and euphoria.

To call it _yearning_ would be like calling the ocean _water_.

How she wished for one night, completely alone, with Ron.

Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking, loving, and dreaming. At night, everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken took on a new and deeper meaning. The way his eyes shone at her tonight made it so easy to imagine that it could happen between them, that she could have a future _with him_.

God…an endless night with Ron…the things she would do…the things he could do to her…

Squeezing her thighs together and biting her lip at the flash of images that sprang into her mind, Grace broke out in a blush. She's thinking these things in bed…with Lewis beside her. She's imagining what she longed to do with Ron while laying next to her teenage crush!

Grace silently laughed – had someone described this picture to her five years ago, she would have called them insane.

The bed shifted and Lew rolled over to face her. He reached out suddenly and pulled her to him tightly, her back pressed against his chest, his arm around her waist, "did you go find Speirs and spill your heart out to him?"

Grace grimaced at his deep voice vibrating in her chest; it was not helping her forget her lusty thoughts of Ron, "no".

"Why not?"

"I don't plan on saying anything…and you better not tell anyone", she said softly.

"I would never", he said, pulling her even closer.

Grace suppressed a sigh, her mind still sending images of Ron at her, "you know, we are surrounded by pillows if you need something to squeeze".

"Pillows are cold. Plus, I bet my life that Speirs would _murder_ his entire company to be me right now".

"You are such a comedian".

"You know I'm right", he said, "we've got a few more hours, just close your eyes and pretend I'm Speirs".

Grace's eyes flew open, "Jesus, you wish".

"You have no idea", he said seriously, his overly husky whisper dancing on her ear.

Grace shivered and Lew laughed, "shut up Lew".

"You shut up, go to sleep".

"Night Lewie".

"Night Gracie".

As much as he gave her a hard time, Grace was so thankful Lewis was there. The boys always made fun of her habit of cuddling up to someone when she was sleeping – but she knew, and so did they, that her nightmares were kept at bay when she was wrapped with someone else.

Relaxing into Lew's warmth, Grace felt the bed swallow her, the excitement of the night blanketed by whiskey lulling her to sleep.

Ooooooooooo

_Damn you hangover_.

Grace sighed as she woke, ignoring the headache she had as to not tempt it to worsen. Keeping her eyes closed, not ready for the morning light, she arched her back to stretch.

"Whoa…good morning to you too".

Grace stilled her movement when she heard Lew's deep voice. She forgot he was there. Realizing her backside was pressed against his hips, she quickly pulled away from him, "I'm so sorry".

"Are you kidding? Don't apologize, Jesus. That was the most action I've gotten in a while".

Turning on her back beside him, Grace groaned, "don't get me started".

Lew grinned, "you too, huh? We can help each other out".

"Christ, Lew".

"I'll let you call me Sparky".

"Ok, you need to stop".

"I'm just sayin'…." He trailed off. Grace heard a smile in his voice as he teased, "we know each other so well….I bet it'd be amazing".

Grace turned to him, exasperated but holding back a smirk, "you need to go now".

"Damn", he smirked, "as Lieb would say, 'no dice'". He crawled over and kissed cheek, "if I had touched you – ever – Chuck would have kicked my ass long ago".

Grace laughed, realizing now that Lewis had no clue that she had loved him in that life, years ago. "Make sure no one sees you leave, huh?"

"If the boys saw me leave your room….that would give me so much ammo to work with", Lew started, teasing again. He laughed at her face, "yeah, yeah – I know the drill, sweetheart". He got up from tying his boots and walked to the door, "get your butt up – there's breakfast in the mess hall by the men's barracks".

Grace sighed, "what I would give for room service".

He smirked, "you don't want to miss it this morning – we've got replacements to intimidate…and Talbert's back".

Grace shot up out of bed, "Floyd's back?" She rushed to her discarded pants before turning to Lew, "you want to step out so I can change?"

Lew nodded and smiled, "right, see you over there". He walked out to the empty hall and shut the door behind him.

Pulling on her BDU's fast, she glanced outside; the sun was covered by low clouds – it looked cold. Grace brushed her curls, still styled from last night. She touched up her face lightly with makeup and brushed her teeth over the water basin. After tying her boots, she slipped on her leather jacket and rushed outside.

Stepping out of the hotel, she smirked seeing Don and Moore zoom by, beers in hand still, riding on a motorcycle and sidecar. She jogged up the hill to meet them as they slowed and stopped.

"It's good to be alive!" Don exclaimed, Moore laughed.

"Did you lot ever hit the hay last night?" Grace said.

Moore chuckled, "nope".

Don offered his beer and Grace shook her head as he draped his arm around her, "no, thank you. I'll be sticking to coffee this morning".

"All the more for me then, Angel", he grinned.

As they walked closer to the mess hall, a voice called out, "hey whiskey-bird! Look who decided to show up!"

Ignoring the 'whiskey' part, Grace looked up to see George smiling, his arm around Tab.

"Floyd", Grace said, watching Tab's face break out into a wide grin.

"Grace Grant", he started, "where have you been all my life?" He held his arms open as Grace jogged over. She slowed to a stop and looked him over, placing a hand over his chest where he was stabbed. "They took good care of me, I'm not gonna break", he said lightly.

Smiling up at him, Grace gently slipped her arms around him, "just don't want to hurt you".

"Aw, cute", George teased.

"Shut your trap, Luz", Tab said, holding Grace close.

"Jesus, I'm glad you're back", she leaned back, looking up to his face, "you feel ok?"

Tab laughed, "I feel great".

Grace grinned, kissing him on the cheek and hugging him once more before pulling away, "you hungry?"

"Christ – the kid gets a kiss and an offer for food? I gatta get ol' Smith to stab me", George drawled.

Ron watched, a cup of steaming black coffee warming his hand, as Grace led Talbert into the mess hall, a soft smile on her face.

How he wished he could be like Talbert…that they could be that open with affection. He longed to _show_ her physically what she meant to him, how much he wanted to touch her.

This damn war cannot be over soon enough.

Nixon strode by, following Winters, he caught Ron's eye-line, seeing that he was staring at Grace. _God, these kids are so obvious_. Lew grinned cheekily at Ron, "Morning, Lieutenant". Smiling, Nixon strutted off and Ron clenched his jaw.

Ron's stomach tightened at the Intelligence Officer's arrogant smirk. _Meet jealousy_, he thought darkly, _where you'll get a splitting headache, an irresistible urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex._

Grace spotted the coffee across the hall, near Welsh who looked like he was nursing a hangover himself beside Buck, "Need coffee now…stat". She turned to a smirking Tab and George, "save me a seat?"

"You over-do it last night?" Tab laughed.

"No one could pry that flask from her lips", George said dryly.

"It wasn't just me", she looked pointedly at his smirking face.

"I'm sorry I missed that, I'd pay to see you drunk", Tab said.

"She was a riot", George said.

"Just save me a seat boys", she said walking off, the smell of coffee beckoning her. Making her way up to the table, she smirked at Harry's pale face, "it's like lookin' in a mirror".

"You too huh?" Buck said beside him.

"Yeah, a bit", she said, pouring herself a cup and skipping the cream and sugar. Turning back around, she spotted George waving at her, a spot free next to him and Muck. Smirking, she tipped her mug at Buck and Harry and walked over to George.

She passed by a table beside George's full of new, young faces…_replacements_. Their wide eyes searched her as she passed by, she saw Toye and Lieb narrow their eyes at them. She had experience with replacements before, with her time with the British. Vets looked down on them; they had to earn their place and most of them didn't live long enough to do so. Hearing them murmur as she walked by, she turned her eyes onto them nonchalantly and watched as they all averted theirs.

"Lieutenant", one with red hair said politely in greeting, nodding his head once.

"Morning Private…" she trailed off.

"Heffron, ma'am", he said.

Grace nodded her head, recognizing his Philly accent, "Private Heffron". Walking to George, she smirked at his face.

"Intimidating the young replacements already?" He asked, feigning shock. Grace shook her head as she picked up his fork and took a bite of his scrambled eggs.

"Leave that to us, Angel", Bill said, grinning to her.

"I think one of 'em is from your block, Bill", she said, "Heffron the red head".

Hearing shushing coming from one table, Grace looked up to see Smokey standing in front of them.

"What's he doing?" Grace asked.

"No idea", George said.

Smokey spoke, "the night of the bayonet".

"Oh Jesus", Grace snickered, turning to Tab who was grinning at her, embarrassed.

Smokey continued, "the night was filled with dark and cold, when Sergeant Talbert, the story's told, pulled on his poncho and headed out to check the lines dressed like a Kraut".

Grace laughed as Don and Moore came to sit down. "Why is everyone in such a hurry to get back?" Don said to Tab, "hospital food don't suit ya?"

"Upon a trooper our hero came, fast asleep, he called his name." Smokey kept his poem going to the rapt attention of the men as Grace saw Lew walk in, his face stern. Lew walked over to Dick and spoke to him, getting close. _Orders to move out are in_. "'Smith, oh Smith, get up, it's time to take your turn out on the line'". Lew looked right over to Grace as Dick walked away, and jerked his head slightly to call her over. Grace got up and patted Tab on the back as she passed him, his cheeks pink.

"Where you goin' doll?" Bill called and Grace just winked to him as she made her way to Lew.

"Private Smith, so very weary, cracked an eye all red and bleary, grabbed his rifle and did not tarry – hearing Floyd but seeing Gerry".

"Grace, Harry, Buck", Lew started as Buck got Lip's attention.

"'It's me', cried Tab. 'Don't do it!' and yet, Smith charged toute suite with bayonet. He lunged, he thrust, both high and low and skewered the boy from Kokomo."

"Training is cancelled today", Lew started, "we're moving out and heading back to France soon".

She nodded and shared a look with Harry, "couldn't stay in England forever", she said under her breath, her attention back on Smokey.

"And as Miss Grace carried him away", Smokey gestured to her, and the room suddenly filled with cat-calls as Grace smirked, "our punctured hero was heard to say, 'when in this war you venture out, never do it dressed as a Kraut!'" The room applauded and Smokey turned to Tab, "since you weren't wounded by the enemy and thus didn't qualify for a purple heart, we've taken matters into our own hands", he pulled one of his three purple hearts off his shirt and held it up, "Tab, this is for you".

The room applauded once again as Grace looked around at their smiling faces. What a way to spoil a perfectly good morning. If you didn't know there was a war going on, someone walking in on this picture would think they were all having a ball at summer camp.

George leaned over and patted Tab on the back, "I could of shot the kid a dozen", Tab started

Joe laughed, "yeah right".

Tab shrugged, "I just didn't think we could spare a man".

Grace looked down at Lip, "want me to tell them?"

Lip smiled up at her reluctantly, "no, I got it Gracie, thanks". She nodded at him and squeezed his shoulder. He stood up and walked in front of them, "couple of announcements men. First, listen up, first – the training exercise scheduled for twenty-two hundred…has been cancelled". Applause filled the room again. Lip held up his hand, remorse etched into his face, "and secondly – all passes are hereby revoked." The laughter and chatter died down at once and Grace took a breath. "We're headed back to France, so pack up your gear. Anyone who has not made out a will, go to the supply office. As you were", he finished and patted Grace's shoulder as he passed her.

The chatter in the room picked up again, this time at a lower decibel than before. They all knew this would come, but knowing that did not deter the sting.

Oooooooooooo

Grace chose to wear her dress greens out to the pub tonight, seeing as she knew it might be the last time they'd be at the pub together. They were to get orders to move out any day now, Lew had told her, so she was waiting for the announcement. Straightening her tie and smoothing her skirt, she smirked, she hadn't worn her dress greens since the day she arrived at Toccoa.

She put the finishing touches on her lipstick and tucked her hair behind her left ear. Pulling her jacket on, she did a once-over in the mirror.

_I still look like I belong in a USO show_, she thought.

She walked out of the hotel and smiled at the group – George, Tab, Buck, Bill, Toye, and Lieb - they'd waited for her.

"Helllloooo Lieutenant!" George drawled as the men turned around and whistled at her.

"Dress greens never looked so good", Buck said as she approached.

"You flatter me", she smiled up at him.

"I merely speak the truth", Buck said, holding his arm out to her as she slipped hers through his.

The pub was hazy with smoke as their group stepped in.

"Hey Heffron", Bill called over to a table of replacements. The red head stood up, smiling and made his way over.

"Hi ya Bill", Heffron said, smiling.

"Got someone you need to meet", he held out his hand to Grace, "this here is one of Easy's finest…Lieutenant Grace Grant".

Grace smiled and stuck out her hand, "pleased to formally meet you".

"We call him Babe", Bill told her

"Catchy name", Grace said.

"We call her Angel", Bill said to Babe, "but don't let that pretty face of hers fool you – she's the real deal".

"I didn't know field nurses can be Lieutenants", Heffron said innocently.

Tab sniggered, "this is the part where I leave to go get a drink. I got yours, Grace", he said as he walked away, George and Lieb hot on his heels.

Buck shook his head, "she's not a field nurse".

"She once ran into the open to take down a Sherman with nothing but a bazooka", Bill said seriously.

"I saw it", Buck said, "and I still think you're crazy", he looked to her, winking.

"Harry was with me too, Bill", Grace said, feeling sorry for Babe, whose face was bright red at his mistaken assumption.

"Apologies, Lieutenant", he said.

"Apology accepted but unnecessary. Let's just play some darts, huh?"

Ooooooooooo

"Nice and easy, Lieutenant, nice and easy", George spoke calmly to Buck.

Standing next to George with her pint, Grace watched as Buck and George played Toye and Babe. Buck's eyes narrowed, concentrating on the board as he aimed and threw…then missed.

"Oh!" Babe and Toye exclaimed.

"It's a tough break - it's a tough night, people have tough nights", George said.

Buck smiled down at him and Grace, "sorry George". Grace shook her head, Buck was keeping an ace up his sleeve – that man could throw like no one's business. It was just a matter of time before he wiped it out.

"It's alright", George affirmed.

Bull walked up, darts in hand and handed them to Babe, "nice throw, sir", he said to Buck, winking.

"Let's go, Babe", Toye said, rubbing Heffron's shoulders.

"Double seven", Babe said, aiming and throwing.

"Oh, nice", Toye said behind him as the dart hit its target. Grace smirked into her glass; who knew the kid could throw. Johnny and Bill looked on, seemingly agreeing with her.

"You're embarrassing the Lieutenant here", Bill said, "have a beer", he handed him a pint.

"Don't mind if I do, Sarge", Babe said.

"It's a good thing I don't gamble, huh Grace?" Buck said, smiling conspiratorially at her.

_Oh, here we go_, "you're right, Buck, that'd be bad news with the night you're having", she said and he grinned at her playing along.

"Oh boy, we would've gotten in trouble", George added as Tab laughed behind her.

Grace watched Babe's eyes light up, "wanna bet?"

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"What?" Geroge said coolly.

Buck shrugged, "I'm not too much of a gambler".

Grace turned to Tab and leaned in, "that's like Sobel saying he wasn't too much of a bastard". Tab grinned and held in a laugh.

"Hey, come on – wanna bet?" Babe insisted.

"Pack of smokes?" Toye suggested.

"Oh gee, I don't know", George shook his head.

"Well", Buck started, "bulls-eye?" He turned to George, shrugging.

"One shot?" George said.

"Yeah, one shot", Babe said, eager.

"One pack", Toye said.

Buck nodded, "eh….make it two?"

"Two packs?" George nodded.

"Yeah, two packs", Babe smiled.

"Alright, two packs. Here we go, here we go", Buck said, aiming for the board.

As he was about to shoot, George nudged Grace, "you ask him this time".

Grace smiled, "Lieutenant, you gonna shoot lefty all night?"

"Hey, come on", Toye said as Bull and Johnny laughed.

George held his hands out, "just sayin' cuz he's right handed".

Buck grinned, "Grace and George – what would I do without you two?" he changed his stance and threw the dart confidently.

Bulls-eye.

"Boop! Ohh!" George said as Grace and Tab laughed.

"Goodness gracious", George said.

"Two packs gentlemen!" Buck called out.

"Never gets old, does it?" George asked.

"Never", Grace confirmed as Tab turned to her.

"If I put on a song would you dance with me?" he asked.

"As long as it's a good song", Grace said to him.

"Hey y'all!" Smokey called out over the pub, "listen up! I got us an announcement to make." He was standing on a stool and he yanked Lip over, "this here is Carwood Lipton."

"He's already married, Smokey", Don called out to laughter.

"This here is Carwood Lipton, the new Easy Company First Sergeant!" Smokey finished. The pub broke out into applause and Grace grinned. "And as befitting to his position, he says he has to make an announcement".

"Oh, here we go", Buck whispered into Grace's ear.

"Well, I hate to break the mood here boys", Lip's eyes found hers, "and Grace…but we're moving out for sure tomorrow."

The pub was quiet for a moment, and Grace's heart sank. She knew it was coming – there was no reason to feel comfortable anywhere, seeing as they never stayed in one place very long.

"You were right", Buck said, handing her a pack of cigarettes. They'd made a bet after he didn't believe her.

"You knew?" Bill asked.

"I'm psychic", she said simply.

"You're Nixon's little sister, that's how she knew", George clarified.

"Very funny Luz", she started, "dance will have to wait?" she asked Tab.

Tab shrugged, "wanna take a walk outside? It's getting hot in here".

"Sure", she said, taking his arm as he led them out.

The cool air and companionable silence was heaven to Grace. They'd taken the long way to the hotel and were walking past the men's barracks.

"It's a shame", Grace started after a while, "having to leave again".

"I'm glad I came back when I did, I might have had to search for you if I'd stayed in the hospital any longer", Tab said.

"I wish the war never happened, and we all just went to pubs every night", Grace said and Tab chuckled, "but if that was the case and the war never started, then none of us would have met".

"You getting sentimental on me?" Tab teased.

"No", she laughed lightly, "maybe a little". She smiled, "now that's a good song".

"What?"

"Getting sentimental over you", she said, "that's a song I'd dance all night to".

"That is a good song", Tab said, "Tommy Dorsey?"

"Yep", Grace said.

"I know that one", he started as he suddenly pulled her to him, his arm around her waist. He swayed as he began to hum the melody.

Grace laughed, gripping his shoulders, "you _do_ know this song. You're pretty good, Tab".

"You're distracting me", he shushed her and began singing again, twirling her in time.

Grace smiled as she closed her eyes, her arms around Tab's neck, swaying to his voice. Too soon, the melody trailed off. They stood together, his arms still around her waist. It was then Grace felt the injustice of the war. _This_ is what they should be doing – going out to the pub, dancing, laughing, being young and _alive_; not fighting and dying in a war.

This next battle they would be facing in the coming days would no doubt take lives. Grace squeezed her eyes shut and held onto Tab, praying in her heart that none of her men would get hurt. Being away from the line, she had allowed herself to relax – but now, she had to slip back into her thick skin.

"George told me about Speirs", Tab said softly.

Grace's heart began to pound, "what?"

"Don't try to get around it, I can _feel_ your heart beating faster", Tab laughed lightly, "I just…"

Grace pulled back, searching his face, "just what?"

Tab bit his lip, "I just want you to be safe, you know? I don't want to see you hurt".

Grace shook her head, "there's nothing going on."

"You kissed, right?"

"Yes".

Tab looked at her seriously, "I see the way you look at him and I also see the way he looks at you".

"And?"

"It's not 'nothing', Gracie."

"You don't have to worry", she assured him, wondering why he was bringing it up.

"No…I know", he said, "I just think you'd be better off with someone else".

"Someone else, huh?"

"Yeah, I've heard stories about him".

"So have I".

"And you still like him?"

Grace wasn't about to blurt out that she more than _liked_ him, but the look in Tab's face was purely out of concern, "yeah, I still like him".

Tab's eyes softened at her soft response. He took a breath and brought one hand up to stroke her pale face, "what if I said I liked ya?"

"Oh.."

"And don't 'oh Floyd' me", he said and they laughed nervously, "I just wanted you to know that I'd never hurt you".

"I know that, but…" she started, but was interrupted by Floyd pressing his lips against hers. Initially shocked, Grace stilled as he thoroughly kissed her. When he gently threaded his fingers through her hair, her eyes slid closed and she found herself kissing him back. Her brain was paused, she was unable to think clearly…all she could do was _feel_, and being kissed without compromise felt so good, she momentarily forgot all the reasons why it was so wrong. Sighing into his mouth, Grace felt him smile against her lips and her heart lurched then…this was _Tab_ not Ron.

"Whoa…" a voice came from behind them and they broke apart. George stood feet from them, his face a mask of surprise. "Sorry…I…"

"No, I'm sorry…I can't…I'm", at a complete and total loss for words, Grace pulled away from Floyd's embrace, cringing at his guilty face, "I'm so sorry, Floyd". Not waiting for a reply, Grace pulled on her jacket and smoothed out her skirt while hastily walking away.

George watched as Grace practically sprinted away, her uneasiness painfully obvious. He turned to Tab, "I know she's completely tempting….but what in the hell were you thinking?"

"I just had to", he said simply, "no regrets".

George sighed, "you're lucky _I_ found you. If it had been any of the other guys, you might'a had a black eye…or if it was Speirs, you'd be dead where you stand".

**Review, review, review!**

**Next chapter: Market Garden**


	20. Chapter 20

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

Thank you for everyone who has alerted and reviewed this story so far! It keeps me churning out chapters – I mean it.

I thought I'd make a playlist for this story. There are a handful of songs that I listen to when I'm in need of inspiration – and these songs have really gotten me going with this story. Let me know what you think!

**Digital Daggers** – "Surrender"

**Dustin O'Halloran** – "Opus 17", "Opus 23", "Opus 36"

**Agnes Obel** – "Riverside", "Falling, Catching"

**The Silent Comedy** – "Bartholomew"

**Celtic Fiddle Festival** – "Melodie/Rondes de Loudeac"

**Yiruma** – "River Flows in You"

**Jean-Yves Thibaudet** – "A Postcard to Henry Purcell"

**Trevor Morris** – "The Passion of King Henry"

**Sia** – "Breathe Me"

For the actual music from the time period (and my _favorite_ music in the world):

**Tommy Dorsey** – "I'm Getting Sentimental over You"

**Glenn Miller** – "In the Mood", "Moonlight Serenade"

**Bunny Berigan** – "I Can't Get Started"

**Duke Ellington** – "It Don't Mean a Thing"

**Fletcher Henderson** – "Down South Camp Meeting"

**So, in case you're wondering what to listen to while reading or after….there you go!**

Grace walked briskly down the lamp lit path to the hotel, feeling sick to her stomach and praying no one was around to see her in this state.

Floyd kissed her.

She kissed Floyd.

She was an _idiot_ to have not seen that coming.

Oh God, will this change everything between them? She couldn't let that happen.

Shoving the door open to the quiet hotel, Grace sprinted up the stairs, taking the steps by two. She didn't notice Ron, just entering the other door across the foyer. His dark eyes narrowed as he watched her go up the stairs.

Producing her room key quickly, Grace silently let herself in her room, not bothering to turn on the light.

Only the sound of her shaky breath and her beating heart filled her ears…and the silence stretched on.

"Shit", she whispered to herself, the gravity of the situation weighing upon her…

Abruptly, outside her window, drunken hooting broke the night's silence, snapping Grace back to reality. Suddenly, she felt suffocated in her dress greens. Throwing off her jacket, she grimaced and tugged at her tie while unzipping her skirt. After discarding her greens on the floor, she lunged for her BDU pants and PT shirt; and tying her jump boots – the room rapidly closed in on her – she needed out.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Holding her breath, Grace stood, motionless.

"Grace?" Ron.

Her first impulse was to open the door for him immediately, but she stopped herself; holding her arm still in front of her, towards the door.

Her eyes went down to the shadow of his jump boots, the light from the hallway streaming under her door. Her heart leapt to her throat, wanting to pull him into her room and hold him to her all night.

_You just kissed another man_.

She squeezed her eyes shut; she's too much of a coward to face him.

She opened her eyes again, her blurring gaze remained on the bottom of the door, watching his still shadow…he hesitated, stepping back….then hurriedly walked away. Staring at the now unobstructed light seeping in, she blinked and felt tears brim over, running continuously now down her flushed face.

_Come back_.

A piece of her heart tore off painfully.

She belonged to no one exclusively…and it was _just a kiss_…why get all worked up? She wanted to dismiss it, she really did – but deep in her heart, she knew it couldn't be that simple. _Nothing was ever fucking simple with her_.

She wanted to belong to Ron, exclusively…she wasn't…and if he found out about what had happened, would that spoil everything?...was there something to spoil at all?

_That would not be fair_.

Anger flared up within her; anger for two things: Floyd's kiss and her ridiculous, girly reaction to it.

She didn't totally mind the kiss – she loves Floyd like a brother, it was no big deal; he shouldn't have done it, the actual act was a completely different story. She _did_, however, mind her knee-jerk reaction to it. She shouldn't have ran like that…_what a stupid thing to do_.

The entire scene played again, rapidly, in her mind and she cringed. She needed to quiet the voice that would repeatedly show her this until she was crazy. They were moving out tomorrow…she couldn't be dealing with this shit.

Slinging her holster around her hips, she placed her sidearm securely in it. _Shoot something, shoot something_; she wanted to go to the firing range…blow off some steam.

The thing about being around men for years…when she got mad, she needed to destroy something.

Slowly opening her door, she peered out down either hall. The last thing she wanted was to run into Ron now.

The coast was clear, so Grace pocketed her key and walked silently down the stairs while holding her breath. Pausing at the wall beside the staircase, Grace glanced around the room as if she were clearing a Kraut infested building. Making sure no one would see her leave; she crossed the foyer in four steps and made it out the door, into the cool, open air. She flew down the stoop and onto the cobblestone street….

"Grace".

Grace spun around and stopped, "George?"

From around the corner of the darkened hotel, Ron stood, motionless – his plan to intercept Grace interrupted by Luz beating him to the punch. He had been worried about her; he knew she would leave and he needed to make sure she was unharmed.

"Are you…"

Grace nodded, "yeah, I'm fine. I just…"

"Needed to go shoot something?"

Grace took a breath, "something like that".

George grimaced, "you're not gonna shoot Floyd, are you?"

Ron narrowed his eyes, able to hear their conversation. _Shoot Talbert?_

"Really, George?"

"I don't know, Jesus", George chuckled, "I mean, he did attack you".

Ron's head snapped up, his jaw clenching.

Grace sighed, "attack?"

Hearing her voice, clear and unaffected, Ron relaxed – she sounded alright.

"He did _kiss_ you, and I'm guessing it was without your consent?"

His eyes darkening, Ron's heart stopped.

Grace regarded George; his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "he did…and it was a surprise. But that's all it was…a kiss".

Ron pressed himself into the brick wall of the hotel, glaring into the dark streets surrounding it.

"So you're not gonna shoot him?"

"No, for Christ's sake!"

"Just making sure, Gracie", George laughed. "Why do you have your gun?"

"On my way to the shooting range", she said, growing impatient.

"You weren't joking about shooting something".

"No, I wasn't".

"So….it was just a kiss?"

"Yes, George", she clipped.

"Like Speirs?"

Ron nearly spoke aloud upon hearing his name. _Grace told him_? _Was he like Talbert to her_?

Grace fixed George with a cold stare, "you are late getting home, George. I suggest you go back to your barracks..."

"Grace…" George interrupted her.

"Now", Grace finished seriously.

George pressed his lips together, nodding to Grace and smiling lightly, apologetically. He walked quickly, back down the street.

Grace's heart beat heavily, watching his form shrink into the darkness. George had managed, at first, to distract her from her anger – but with his last comment about Ron, it came roaring back with a vengeance more destructive than before.

She took a few steps forward, following where George had left, on her way directly to the firing range.

Hearing another pair of jump boots on the cobblestones join hers, she turned back towards the hotel, her brow furrowed.

From the darkened side, Ron stepped forth into the lamp light near the stoop of the hotel.

Her blood running cold at the stiff set of his shoulders, she watched - her brain searching desperately for something to say – as his downcast face lifted up to meet hers.

She did not have to ask – the icy stare she received from him said it all: he had heard everything.

Her newfound anger fled from her body at once, only to be replaced by intense uneasiness. What this moment lacked in sound, it made up for in waves of thick tension, ten-fold.

She stood her ground, knowing no word would alleviate anything.

She had wondered how their tryst, their affair would end. In her death…in his? Him spurning her for another, more beautiful and innocent woman? Her imagination could never have conjured up the accusation and betrayal his eyes held tonight.

Worse, however, was how his eyes hardened over – clouded at once with indifference – as he regarded her coldly, casually lit a cigarette, then leisurely walked past her…nearly brushing her shoulder with his. She turned to his diminishing figure, and watched, as he maintained his careless pace – not sparing one glance backwards towards her until she could no longer see him in the darkness of night.

**This is the shortest chapter yet….but that's only to make room for the coming chapters, which WILL be much longer. This simply needed to happen first.**

**Please, please review!**


	21. Chapter 21

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

Thank you for everyone who has alerted and reviewed this story so far! It keeps me churning out chapters – I mean it.

Ron stood still, his neck stiff from a restless sleep, as he listened to Colonel Sink brief the officers on their next Operation: Market Garden. The small room all the officers had gathered in smelled strongly of cigarettes and coffee. Being that they were all called to this room at 0500 hours, every pair of hands held a mug of the black stuff…that is, every pair but one.

He looked over to Grace, her hands jammed in her BDU pockets. She appeared paler than usual, light purple smudges under her dark eyes; Ron clenched his jaw at the guilty push he felt. He knew her obviously sleepless night had been because of him; because of his childish reaction. He wished he could go over, explain himself…but what demanded his attention was the Operation in front of him, and if he knew Grace like he did, he knew that she felt the same as well.

If Ron could measure his feelings, his love by the extent of his jealousy – the entire world would have been set on fire last night. The potency of his jealousy should have shocked him, but one look at her face, one glance she spared towards him – and he knew better than to be surprised.

When he saw her sprint up the hotel stairs last night, he had been instantly troubled. Paratroopers, Infantry, Airmen – they were abound and crawling Aldbourne; give them a night off with alcohol, music, throw in a gorgeous Lieutenant…Ron's vivid imagination paired with his fierce protectiveness over Grace, he immediately assumed the absolute worst.

He knew she had been in her room when he knocked and spoke her name, but she didn't answer. He knew if he waited, she would emerge; so he waited outside for her. He needed to know she was alright – it would like her to keep quiet if she wasn't. As soon as she burst out of the hotel, Luz came out of nowhere and called her name. Ron stayed quiet and remained in the dark to the side – he would have to eavesdrop to hear if she was alright.

She was not.

His instantaneous reaction had been rage. He happily envisioned himself finding Talbert and making him a visual example for anyone who wanted to know, what would happen should they touch Grace without her consent.

Just as soon as he imagined that, he felt a tug – deep down – rejection, betrayal. She said Talbert's advances were unwanted…but…did she view his as the same?

Never had Ron reacted this way towards a woman; this timidly, this unsurely. This woman had no idea how she affected him so. Hearing that she had kissed Talbert, no matter the circumstances, had still stung. How could he have stupidly thought no other man would try for her? He should have seen something like this coming.

That was when Luz spouted _his_ name.

She had spoken of their odd, intoxicating, and completely unethical relationship?

He should have walked away then, unnoticed. He didn't – he stayed, heard her growl at Luz – sending him back to barracks. His heart tightened in delight in her immediate, harsh command to Luz – but it was short-lived. How could he have believed they could ever have a future?

"This operation will be under British command", Sink said. The sighs and murmurs following were quiet, but did not go unnoted, "each company's CO will make their briefings after breakfast. Dismissed". The men began to filter out of the cramped room. "Lieutenant Grant?" Sink called. Ron hesitated at her name and looked over to Grace who nodded at Sink and made her way towards him.

She stopped at Sink's side and he began talking in a low tone. Hearing a cough from across the room, Ron glanced over to see Nixon and Compton, staring accusingly back at him.

Fighting a grimace, Ron swiftly walked out the doorway.

"Lieutenant Grant", Sink began to her, "I'd like to be the first of the higher ups here at battalion to commend you – you have proven yourself over a million times over".

Keeping a neutral face, Grace nodded, "thank you, sir".

Sink looked at her square in the eye, "Now Grace, I'm not sayin' that because I can – I mean it. Now that being said, I wanted to be the one to tell you this". He looked at her seriously, "Easy's getting a transfer Lieutenant, his name's Peacock, he'll be handling second platoon". Grace felt her stomach drop. It wasn't that she expected to be made a platoon leader, but she _knew_ those men, she trusted them and they trusted her; she was experienced, and had proved her ability to lead time and time again. _Why did she feel that because of her sex, she was fighting two wars here and not one?_ Sink continued, "Captain Winters, Lieutenants Nixon, Welsh, and Compton supported your leadership and relationship with the men – as do I, but you being a First Lieutenant is enough of a stretch for General Taylor", his deep eyes regarded her and she had to make an effort to sustain her glassy expression.

"I understand, Colonel".

"I want you out there with your weapon at the ready for this operation. Give your medic badge to Roe and make sure he's in charge of the medics now. We're going to need your experience for this operation".

"Yes, sir".

"You keep up the good work, Lieutenant", with that, he dismissed her and Grace turned and walked out of the warm room.

She was running on empty – she had stayed up all night, fired round after round at the firing range, then remained there on the cold, wet grass as the sun came up. She had jogged back the 2 miles to the hotel to grab her jacket before their 0500 meeting, but Lew had been waiting for her outside on the steps, her jacket in his hand. When he pressed her as to why she wasn't in her room and why she had her sidearm, she simply thanked him for her jacket and remained quiet.

"Grace", she looked up, startled, as Lew smirked softly, "sorry I scared you. What did Sink want?"

Grace suppressed a sigh, "he wanted to tell me himself that Roosevelt thinks I'm the most valuable asset to the allied forces".

"Well, we already knew that. I bet Sink made you Captain after that", he joked.

Grace kept walking, intent to get to the mess hall in time for the briefing with the men, "there's a new transfer – name's Lieutenant Peacock – he's taking second."

Lew paused, "did you want to be in charge of second?"

"I know I could help, I could lead them – help with the operation and get the men through unscathed. That's all".

Lew was silent as he walked beside her, taking notice then of her appearance and rigid posture, "you ok, Gracie?"

She relaxed her shoulders, wishing to come across as normal and unbothered to everyone, as they walked into the hall. "I'm fine", she said, parting from Lew with a soft smile. She walked across the hall; she could feel Floyd and George staring her down as she made her way to Harry and Buck.

Grace came to a stop next to them. They both looked curiously at her, "you look like you're about to fall over", Harry said, "Sink's message that bad? Are you jumping into Berlin by yourself?"

"She could, you know", Buck joked.

She smirked and shook her head, "Like I'd jump on top of Hitler without the two of you. I just didn't sleep last night…and Sink told me we've got a new Lieutenant?"

"Lieutenant Peacock….little guy over there", Buck stealthily pointed him out. The shorter, dark haired man she fixed her gaze upon looked unassuming; she was instantly irritated.

"He's taking second platoon", Grace said.

"Not you?" Buck said, frowning with Harry.

"Looks like General Taylor isn't a fan of yours truly", she said nonchalantly.

"Son of a bitch", Buck swore.

"At least we'll have someone to blame when the men come complaining to us", Harry drawled.

"What's with your sidearm?" Buck pointed.

Grace sighed this time – the one morning she can't keep her eyes open is the one morning everyone else is as sharp as tacks. "Spent the last couple hours at the firing range".

"Why?" Harry asked, an eyebrow quirked.

Grace fixed him with an exasperated stare not about to explain as Buck spoke, pulling her gently between the two of them closely, "lean against me so you don't fall over on that pretty face of yours, Angel".

Oooooooooooo

"As you can see, this is called Operation Market Garden", Winters called out over the men, a map of Holland behind him. "In terms of Airborne division involved, this one is even bigger than Normandy. We're dropping deep into occupied Holland". From her position next to Buck and Harry, Grace looked out toward the men – all seated facing them. Catching Floyd's eyes on her, Grace turned her attention to the back of Lew's collar, who stood in front of her. Winters continued, "the allied objective is to take this road here between Eindhoven and Arnem so the two British armored divisions can moved upward toward Arnem. Our job is going to be to liberate Eindhoven; stay there, wait for the tanks." Winters nodded and walked a few feet to the side.

Lew stepped forward and Grace met eyes with Bill ,who was looking at her intensely. This drop was different, she could _feel_ it in the air. This was their second jump, they knew what it was like…Grace nodded softly to Bill, who nodded back and turned his eyes to Lew, "the entire European advance has been put on hold to allocate resources for this operation. It's Montgomery's personal plan to be under British command." The entire room groaned and Grace took a breath, expecting the reaction. Lew continued, "the good news is, if this works, the tank will be over the Rhine and into Germany…that could end the war and get us home by Christmas". _Too good to be true_, Grace thought. "It'll be a day time jump, intelligence doesn't expect too much opposition they think the Germans guarding Holland are kids and old men…and we should take them by surprise. In any case, say goodbye to England, I don't think they're gonna call this one off".

Lew turned to the new Lieutenant, nodding, as he joined Winters to the side. Peacock spoke up, "the trucks will be departing for the airstrip in one hour. We'll set up base there and suit up tomorrow morning".

"Dismissed", Winters called out and the men stood up, murmuring amongst themselves.

"Do you need me to help you pack or can you manage all on your own, sweetheart?" Harry said, attempting to lighten the sudden heavy atmosphere.

Grace smirked, "are you trying to get a peek at my skivvies? Kitty would hate to hear that, Harry."

Harry grinned and turned to Buck, "_there_ she is…Grace Grant, welcome back to the party".

"Some party", she muttered.

"If anyone's helping you pack you skivvies, it's me", Buck poked her in the ribs.

"Yeah, I think I can manage by myself, thanks anyway boys", she chuckled, walking with them out to the hotel to grab their packs and gear.

As they passed the men, she noticed Peacock exchanging words with second platoon. She chanced a noncommittal glance in their direction, and spied Bill, Toye, Joe, Don, and Johnny watching her pass, confused and frustrated expressions on their faces. She bit her lip, praying to God Peacock was a better officer than he looked.

They made their way to the hotel, jeeps outside with Privates stacking gear. Grace looked up to see Ron exiting the hotel, his passive gaze hardened spotting her as well. She held his eyes for a full second, then looked down, feigning indifference.

"After you, Angel", Harry said, inviting Grace first through the doorway, his eyes on Ron.

"Thank you", she said softly, blithely running up the stairs; her shoulder brushing Ron's ever so slightly, her heart hammering in her ears.

Oooooooooooo

Letting a jeep pass, Grace adjusted her pack on her back and held her helmet in her hand as she crossed a makeshift road to the cluster of men preparing for their jump.

She spotted the replacements gathered together, readying their rifles and watching the Toccoa men.

"Watch and learn kids", she heard Cobb say arrogantly to them as she passed, rolling her eyes to herself.

Bull walked up and stopped next to her, having grabbed Garcia's rifle. He paused, his eyes focusing on a jeep. Grace frowned and turned around.

None other than Captain Sobel sat shotgun in the passing jeep.

Grace felt a familiar coldness settle in her stomach as she looked upon the man who made their lives a living hell years ago…where it all started.

Sobel's black eyes found hers, he glanced at the silver bars on her collar, then snapped back up to stare at her as his jeep passed. Popeye Winn stood, smirking in the back.

She walked forward to Bill and touched his shoulder, he stood up and did a double take at the jeep and Sobel, his eyes still on her. As the jeep slowed, his expression remained the same…and Grace couldn't tell if he was surprised to see them all alive…or disappointed. He climbed out of the jeep, making his way stiffly to the back of a following supply truck. Smirking, Grace spotted the motor bike and sidecar in the supply truck and made her way to Popeye who was greeted by Lipton.

"They let him out like this, Lip?" She asked, Popeye pulling her in for a hug.

"That's what I just asked him", Lip said, smiling.

"They didn't let me out, I busted out", Popeye said, as they led him to the men, "I didn't want to get reassigned to some other unit".

"Yeah?" Lip said, Popeye nodded.

"Can you make the jump?" Grace asked, smiling at him.

"Sure I can, Lieutenant, I just can't sit", he smirked.

"Welcome back Popeye", Bull greeted, shaking his hand.

"He made it here just in time to jump", Lip told him.

Bull motioned toward Sobel, "what's he doin' here?"

Lip answered, "Sobel? He's the newly appointed regimental S4".

"Supply officer?", Bull asked.

"Yeah, you got it", Lip said.

"He picked me up in Aldbourne, I was trying to find you guys", Popeye said.

"He know you went AWOL?" Grace asked him.

Popeye nodded, "yeah, he knows. He just said I was lucky, said I could sit this jump out if I wanted…I said I didn't want to..so he says hop in".

"Hop in?" Grace laughed with Bull.

"Yeah I know…I couldn't believe it either..hey, maybe he's gonna Court Martial me later, huh?" Laughing, Lip led Popeye away to get situated with gear as Bull and Grace turned back to the men.

"Can you believe that, Gracie?" Bull asked, chuckling and gnawing on his cigar.

Grace shook her head slowly, grinning, "I don't know, Bull. It's crazy", she turned to him, one eyebrow arched, "how much money would I have to pay you to ride a few hours in a jeep with Sobel?"

Bull laughed and winked, walking to his men, "you don't have _that_ kinda money, little lady".

Making her way back to the men, Grace neared Don and Muck who were staring at the obviously confiscated motor bike. Grace smirked, walking towards them.

"Malarkey", Sobel called and Grace felt her skin nearly crawl hearing his voice. Muck turned suddenly, looking intently at the clipboard in his hand. He spotted Grace, took her by the hand, and walked them away from Sobel's approaching figure.

"Jesus that was close", Grace said.

"You owe me one, Gracie", Muck said, taking a deep breath and walking away.

Grace walked briskly to Bill, and Toye. She sat her helmet on the ground and pulled her pack around her shoulders.

"Hey boys, what's the word?" she said, noticing Peacock feet away, tugging on his pack and looking her way; Johnny Martin stood next to him

"Hey Gracie…what do ya bet if Sobel cornered you, he'd make you run in full gear to Holland?" Bill said, smirking.

Toye and Johnny laughed with Grace, "the odds are pretty good, I'd say", Toye responded.

"Just tap my leg, Sergeant", she overheard Peacock mutter to Johnny.

"Lieutenant, you'll be in the doorway", Johnny said plainly back. Looking down to her pack, Grace caught Bill and Toye looking Johnny's way as well, listening.

"I know, but…" Peacock turned to Johnny, "look, Sergeant, you'll be the man behind me…" he looked back to Grace, "when the green light comes on, if you could just tap me, alright?"

"The green light will be next to you, sir", Johnny insisted. Next to her Toye sniggered.

"Just do it", Peacock snapped, "that's an order".

"Fuckin' hell", Bill muttered next to her.

Ooooooooooooo

September 17th, 1944 Holland

Grace felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, the rumbling of the plane engine in her chest and the smell of fuel as they flew the short distance to Holland. She was nervous…there was no denying that…the last time she jumped, the pane had gone down. She felt better now, being in Winters' plane this time.

The only uncomfortable thing about their flight, apart from the damn air-sickness pills, was Talbert. He was sitting across from her and down a few spots, next to George. Grace cursed herself. The decent woman in her said she should not have made the jump without speaking to him first to clear the air….but the Lieutenant and Paratrooper in her knew the jump, the Operation, and safety of her men come first.

The jump was quiet, still. Grace felt uneasy…the last time she'd had a day jump like this was in Africa…and things did not go according to plan then.

Landing gracefully, she quickly gathered her chute and rifle, running past a few privates who needed a quick hand.

"Sorry, Lieutenant", Hashey muttered to her as she swiftly pulled his chute free.

"Don't be sorry – grab your rifle and follow Sergeant Randleman", she said, running after Buck.

The companies walked a few miles, following the roads while under cover.

They were stopped now in a ditch right beside the road. She was crouching beside Harry and Joe, waiting for the all-clear as their planes took off back towards England.

"Goodbye air support", Harry muttered beside her.

Lew jogged down to them and called out, "Peacock!"

Peacock run up to meet them, "yes sir".

"We've got a hold-up ahead, report down the line to Sergeant Randleman that we're going to cut through this field next to us".

"Yes sir", Peacock said, taking off down the line.

"Well, the kid can take an order at least", Harry whispered to her.

Grace walked, on alert, through the tall grassy field with Easy Company. Motioned to halt by the lead scouts, the group slowed. Through two buildings in Eindhoven, Grace could see banners of bright orange streaming and fluttering in the wind.

After receiving the all-clear to go, they walked into the city streets, suddenly overwhelmed and flooded with people, music, dancing, and free-flowing spirits.

"Oh shit, these boys are gonna scatter", she heard Harry say beside her.

"Just make sure we keep 'em goin' through the town", Lew called out.

All around her, the men, women, and children were waving flags, dancing, and singing. People were pouring out of pubs, out of balconies; calling out to the American troops, giving them food and booze – women were pulling men left and right to kiss them. Immediately, she was having a hard time trying to walk through the throngs of people.

"Holy crap!" she heard Bill yell in front of her, laughing as a woman yanked him to the side.

From her right, a young boy about ten years old tapped her arm. She turned to him, his large blue eyes growing larger as he saw she was a woman. Grinning, he handed her a handful of wildflowers, "thank you!", Grace spoke loud so the boy could hear her. The boy smiled and pulled her collar towards him, kissing her on the cheek. Smiling, Grace kept walking; the little boy pointed and called something out. The people surrounding him looked momentarily stunned as Grace walked by, by soon they were all handing her flowers and pouring her drinks. "Oh, good Jesus", Grace said to herself as she took another shot with an older couple, trying not to be rude.

Nodding her head and blowing a kiss to their smiling faces, she shoved the flowers in her front BDU pocket and kept walking, her eyes darting to find her men to keep them moving. She was absolutely struggling to keep on the road and not get pushed to the side.

Lip suddenly appeared next to her, a red smudge of lipstick on his mouth, "Gracie, you seen Captain Winters?"

"I'm trying to find him too!" She called back. "We've gatta get the men movin'! Maybe Bull's seen Winters!" He nodded and ran over to Bull who was nearby.

Walking still slowly through the huge crowd, she smiled as a Priest grinned and passed her a cigar. She smiled, pocketing it with the flowers and looked up to a lamppost to see Peacock screeching to the men over the crowd, "keep moving! KEEP MOVING!"

Suddenly, she felt a pair of arms circle her waist and spin her around into an alley nearby. Her hand went straight for the strap of her rifle when she locked eyes with Joe Liebgott. "Now's a good a time as ever, what do ya say Gracie?"

"Are you kidding me Joe? I almost took you out with my rifle! We gatta move these boys through the town and you wanna play grab fanny?"

"I don't wanna play grab fanny, I wanna kiss you!"

"You're insane!" she yelled.

He grinned big, "you only live once!"

Glaring at him, she went to kiss him on the cheek just to appease him and get the hell out of there. He turned his head at the last second and he caught her lips with his. Kissing him, her eyes snapped open as he held her face to his.

She pulled away from him, "God damn it, Joe – you're lucky you're my friend or your ass would be Court Martialed so fucking fast!"

"Hey, you can't blame me! I gatta try and sway you before Sparky makes an honest woman out of you!" Grace looked down to his pockets and spotted two packs of Lucky's. She swiped them before he could stop her, "hey – what the hell?"

"Consider us even!" She called back to his smirk, "now go move the men!"

"You got it, Lieutenant", Joe winked and made his way through the crowd, yelling and dragging replacements away from the towns people.

"Fuck", she swore to herself, as she moved away from the alley and near a small group of tables, Grace spotted Tab seated on a small bistro table with a local girl in his lap. He was kissing her passionately, his fingers raking up into her dark hair. Quirking an eyebrow, Grace set her shoulders and walked over, "SERGEANT TALBERT!" She called out, startling him. His eyes widened seeing her smirking at his red face, his hair sticking in every direction. "Let's move, we've got work to do". Tab nodded, frantically grabbing for his helmet as he stood up, avoiding Grace's eye.

Grace kept walking forward, she swore she could see Lew ahead near a corner. Grunting as someone pushed her forward, all she could do was try desperately not to be pushed over and trampled in this crowd.

"Hey Gracie, goin' my way?" she heard Buck call out to her. She sighed in relief as he pulled her under his arm and made his way easily than she ever could over to Harry, Lew, and Dick. "What's up Welshie?"

"Snipers", Harry called.

Grace was standing, but still getting knocked around by passerby's. About to lose her footing as she tried to steady her rifle, an arm reached out and grabbed her, pulling her close. "You are getting tossed around out there, Grace", Dick's voice came from above her.

Grace grimaced, "thanks, Dick", she said to his smiling face as she slung her rifle around her shoulder and began to button her collar up to hide her bars, Lew close behind her to block people running by.

"We've gatta get to these bridges", Dick said to Lew who nodded.

Dick led them over across the square, were Grace saw people chanting and yelling in a circle.

From in between people standing, she could see women…they were stripped down to their slips, forced onto their knees…their heads were being shaved. "Grace", she heard Lew in warning behind her. Confused and shocked, she cocked her head and walked forward to get a better view of what exactly was going on when strong arms clamped onto her waist, making her stay put and watch. Annoyed, she turned to see Buck behind her, looking concerned and perplexed over the circle.

"What'd they do?" Harry asked out to no one.

"They slept with the Germans", came an answer behind them. Turning, Grace saw a slender man with light hair looking at them; he had an orange armband on. "They are lucky, the men who collaborated are being shot."

"Mr. VanClark here is with the Dutch resistance", Lew spoke to Dick.

VanClark shook Dick's hand, "we've been waiting and hoping for this day for almost five years", he said.

"He says he can help us secure the bridges here", Lew said. The three of them walked away to discuss strategy.

"Is this what every liberation is like?" Harry asked.

"No idea, never done it before", Grace answered.

The roars of the crowd got louder and Grace heard tanks now approaching. _The British_.

Walking with Buck and Harry, they stopped at a lamppost when Dick turned to them.

"Get scouts to check the village in case we're here for the night".

Ooooooooooooo

That night, the officers had been leant a barn to sleep in.

Grace couldn't sleep….not with Ron feet away, his back turned toward the wall….not when things with Tab were unfinished.

Jumping into Holland had managed to catapult her brain back into insomnia. Turning over and sitting up, she rolled her neck and shoulders. She stood up and made her way to go outside for some fresh air. Getting away…getting outside, had _always _made Grace feel centered once again. She picked up that habit from her father. When he was in a tough predicament, whether it be some decision or problem, he'd pace the floor of his study until the walls felt closer then he'd go outside and come back with his head on straight again.

She needed to be alone to think. In a quiet barn in the middle of Holland, surrounded by sleeping men, she was certainly not alone.

Passing by Lew's still figure, he spoke, "care for a night cap, Gracie?"

Grace smiled and leaned down to him, "only if you're offering, Lew". He winked and passed her his flask. Smelling Vat and smiling she took a swing and sighed, "thanks".

"Don't mention it", he sleepily said. Lew was the only man she knew who could offer her a drink while half asleep.

Stepping outside the barn into the cool air, her hands automatically reached for her cigarettes…her hand stilled over them. Cigarettes and cold, quiet nights reminded her of one man….a man who was inside the barn…who she was trying to get away from; she folded her arms across her stomach and leaned up against the wall.

How was she going to fix things with Ron?

Is it true what they say? Time….does time heal all wounds? Would this simply _go away_ if she moved on? Perhaps it's that time doesn't heal…perhaps that's the biggest lie of them all, and instead what happens is that each wound penetrates the body deeper and deeper until one day you find that your body – the angle of your shoulders, the luster of your eyes, the texture of your skin, the openness of your smile – had collapsed under the weight of your grief.

What about Floyd? Her friendship with him was damn near sacred to her. Nothing makes the earth seem so lonely as to have a friend at a distance…

Having loved ones away from her…it made _made_ the latitudes and longitudes unbearable.

**More later…..please review!**


	22. Chapter 22

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

Grace sat atop one of the many tanks plowing down the dirt road, flanked by fields of lavender and bright yellow flowers. Breathing in the sweet smell of the earthy lavender, Grace mused to herself regarding the quiet, serene beauty surrounding them. How many bloody battles had played out here before them? How many would be after?

Someone poked her side, she turned around to see Bill passing her a cigarette. She hesitated for only a second…she hadn't had a cigarette in a while…not since after Ron…

Smiling tightly in thanks at Bill, she gingerly took it – the thin, light stick feeling weightless between her fingers. Putting it to her lips, she leaned forward as Johnny held out a light for her; she kept her eyes trained on the smoldering tip, inhaling and forcing all thoughts of Ron from her mind.

"Vincent van Gogh was born in Nuenen", she heard Webster say, amused.

"Yeah? So what", Cobb spat out.

"Sure do teach a lot of useful stuff at Harvard", Hoobler quipped.

"If anyone loses an ear, be prepared for an ironic joke from me", Grace said as Webster smirked and Bill and Johnny laughed.

Grace looked behind her, to the other tank – to George and Tab. George caught her eyes and winked; her heart constricted as she smiled softly back. It felt unbelievably wrong, completely foreign to be away from them. She licked her lips anxiously, becoming frustrated with herself – she needed to man-up and speak to Tab.

Leaning up against the tank, Grace closed her eyes, enjoying the feelings of the sun and its warmth kissing her face. Her body cold from the nearing fall breeze, her face warm from the waning summer sun; she smiled inwardly at the juxtaposition that meant autumn was nearly here.

"Hey…up ahead", someone called out from the ground.

Grace opened her eyes to see a frail, freshly shorn woman cradling an infant close. This woman clearly had been with a German and had been cast out of town.

Grace felt her heart fall through her body as she looked upon her. Where would she go? Who would take her in? The weather would be turning bad soon. Grace clenched her jaw as the woman's eyes briefly met hers. As she watched Bull hand over a K-ration to a private to give to the woman, a warm hand pressed over hers. Looking over, Grace saw Joe Toye – his jaw clenched, his face profoundly sad looking to the woman as they passed in silence.

Minutes later, the tanks slowed just outside the town. Peering beyond Bull, Grace's eyes scanned the village. _Quiet…still_. She glared against the sun, over across the fields, her heart sensing something off. This didn't feel right.

"Hey – get a load of General Patton!" Hoobler called over the tanks.

"Where's he goin'?" Bill said as Grace silently slid off the tank, aided by Johnny. She looked over to see Lieutenant Brewer walking tall and unconcerned, binoculars in hand and out in front facing Nuenen.

"He makes a good target, don't he?" Hoobler said to them. Grace frowned – what did he think he was going to see?

"Lieutenant!" Bull yelled.

Grace watched, holding her breath, as Brewer lazily turned around to them.

CRACK!

Suddenly, a snipers bullet ripped through Brewer, taking him down immediately.

"TANKS!" Private Miller yelled, pointing across the field.

Impulsively, Grace ran to Brewer as the men fled from the tanks and into the ditches nearby.

"Medic up front!" Grace screamed out.

"MEDIC!" Bull yelled, crouching near her. Grace pressed her hands onto Brewer's bleeding neck, attempting to slow the blood flow. She felt dirt fly up around her as a shriek came from her left: the responding medic had been hit. "Oh shit", she heard Bull grunt.

"You need to get the men into town", she said to Bull as he nodded and ran to the ditches.

"Come on! Let's move!" he yelled.

"MEDIC!" Grace called out again. "Stay with me, Brewer, I've got you", she said to the man beneath her, looking into his eyes – they were scared but alert and trained on her. She called out over the spraying bullets to the medic on the ground beside her, "you alright?" She couldn't take her hands from Brewer, for fear of him bleeding out; the medic had been hit in the leg – a painful but treatable wound. All she received in response from the medic was a grunt and moans.

"Lieutenant Grant!" she heard Gene yell. He skidded to a stop next to her, glancing over the medic then on Brewer, "how we doin' here?"

"Lieutenant Brewer needs a syrette in his shoulder", she responded, watching as Gene immediately stuck him, pining the needle to his lapel. He rapidly produced a bandage and pressed it over Grace's hands tightly. She gently slid her hands off of Brewer's neck, feeling Gene apply pressure while tying off the bandage.

"I'm good here, Lieutenant", Gene said strongly, "go with the men".

Nodding once, Grace crouched up, slung her rifle around in front of her and ran into the town. Sprinting silently past a wooden wagon full of hay, she pressed herself up against a brick wall by Buck, Bill, and Don.

Buck nodded to her as she peered around the corner. Seeing Bull's men push into a house and cover most of the buildings in front, she nodded, "let's move".

Bill pushed forward, motioning to the other men, "go, let's go".

They ran around the brick wall, crawling over a shorter one and running through a small cemetery, the smoking and burning wreckage of the Kraut tank to their left. Stopping beside another wall, Bill whistled, signaling them to hold up.

Seeing Ramirez and a squad of men run up against another building, Bill gave the all-clear to move forward again. "On me", Grace said. Sprinting a short distance across a gravel road, she followed Buck, leading the men over another short wall and onto a grassy strip facing the main square of buildings. A near perfect position for mortars and MG's, "fall in!" Grace called out as the men fell in line, readying their rifles and taking knees.

"Ok fellas, set 'em up", Buck said, him and Grace aiming their rifles as the men put together the mortars and MG's.

Grace's heart was pounding. Pressing her lips together in concentration and her eyes darting from left to right, she wondered where the opposition was. The British tanks would be flooding the streets soon and if they couldn't locate the Krauts now, there would be a big problem if the Germans were biding their time to take out the tanks. In the back of her mind, Grace wondered where the hell Lieutenant Peacock was.

Keeping her breathing even with Buck's, Grace could hear the approaching British tanks rumbling from behind their position. Suddenly, she could hear the tanks slow and stop, their engines idle.

"What's the hold up?" Buck breathed beside her, only for her to hear.

"Not a clue", she breathed back. "Keep it steady, boys", she called over the crouching men next to her.

The tanks picked up speed behind them again and Grace gripped her rifle tighter.

BOOM!

From in front of their position, an explosion sounded and Grace's stomach fell…_German tank_.

CRASH!

Behind them, where the British tanks were approaching, she heard the familiar sound of twisting metal.

"Shit", Buck cursed as they heard a Kraut tank pull forward and shoot once more.

BOOM!

CRASH!

This time, a building to their right exploded into brick as Grace caught sight of Bull and his men falling back.

Suddenly from above them, German snipers emerged from hiding as they took aim and shot down, spraying hundreds of rounds of bullets onto the ground and the retreating men.

"Fall back! Take cover!" Grace heard men yell over the rounds.

A squad of men ran to her and Buck's position, throwing themselves over the short wall as she stood up with Buck, both of them aiming and popping off all their rounds at the German infantry.

"God damn it", Grace muttered as she watch dozens of Germans appear from the buildings, all manning MG's and anti-tank weapons. She sprayed the area down in vain, attempting to take a handful of them down and prevent them from manning their weapons, but there were so many of them. With the British tanks gunned down and in bad position, there was no cover for her men to advance into the town – especially not when the Krauts had a handful of tanks themselves.

From his platoon's position near the road, Ron ran with his men into the town as soon as the first German tank had fired. Rounding a corner to provide suppressing fire for Easy, Ron could see the British tanks smoking and Kraut tanks advancing. German infantry began pouring out of buildings, running right to weapons, German snipers were holding down squads of men all over the village. There was no taking this town.

"Fall back! Take cover!" men yelled from in front of them as all hell broke loose around him.

"Let's go! Let's go! Fall back!" Ron yelled furiously out over his men, ushering them back the way they came before they were outflanked.

Running as fast as he could, covering his platoon's rear, Ron looked behind him as an entire platoon of Germans dropped to their knees and took aim at them. Dodging sprays of bullets, Ron got his men back near the road as a tank to his left rolled by, flaming.

BOOM!

Suddenly, the tank exploded.

PING!

Ron felt his left shoulder push forward; it felt as someone took a sledgehammer to it and he felt warmth spread down his arm. Grunting through the searing pain, Ron kept running – finally making it back to the other tanks and trucks. Making a head count of his men first and ensuring they were unwounded, Ron felt the back of his shoulder – a piece of shrapnel from the exploding tank protruded out.

"Rifle grenade!" Buck yelled out as Smith crouched down between them.

Grace held her arm out in front of her, pointing to the main two snipers atop a building in front of them, "Smith, MG forty-two, ten o'clock…nail 'em!"

Smith aimed and Buck screamed out, "FIRE!"

Boom! Direct hit.

The Germans kept running out…there were simply too many of them. They were going to have to fall back.

Firing her weapon steadily on the gaining Krauts, Grace heard Bull yell, "FALL BACK!" The two of them pooped off a few more rounds as the men around them swiftly packed up the MG's and mortars.

"LET'S GO, LET'S GO!" Grace yelled, her and Buck covering the rear of their group.

Sprinting under falling bricks, bullets, smoke, and shrapnel, Grace ran after Buck, her weapon steady out in front of her. About to be outflanked, the retreating men were forced into a small ditch that ran outside the village. It would take them directly to the roads. Buck turned and grabbed Grace's pack straps, throwing her into the ditch to run in front of him.

"KEEP RUNNING!" He yelled to the men from behind her.

"KEEP YOUR HEADS DOWN!" Grace hollered, running steadily behind Don. Hearing a bullet whiz by and hit something, Grace turned around and saw Buck fall to the ground. "MEDIC!" she screamed out as she went to Buck's side, Don falling against her with Muck beside him.

Buck turned up, his face shocked, looking at his bloodied fingers as Don turned to yell in front of them, "GO! Get a medic now!"

Grace could see his blood coming from his behind – he'd been shot in the ass. She put her hands on either side of his face, getting him to look at her, not at his blood, "it's a clean shot, Buck, you're gonna be fine", his clear blue eyes regarded her seriously.

Gene bounded up then and dropped behind Buck, "Hiya Doc", Buck said.

"Lieutenant", Gene responded, taking a look at the wound, "it's in and out; a clean wound, you'll be alright". He produced a bandage just as a mortar hit nearby. Grace pushed herself on top of Buck, shielding him from any further harm as a spray of heavy dirt flew over them.

"Malark!" Buck yelled, "get her outta here, get everybody out of here!"

"What?" Don called out, frowning down at Buck.

"Just go! Leave me here for the Germans", Buck said seriously.

"What…no!" Grace said back.

"Are you nuts?" Don yelled.

"We'll carry you!" Grace shouted.

"You kiddin' me?" Buck said, obviously in pain, "I weigh more than all of you combined".

Don and Grace looked to one another, in horror, as a thought came to her, "Doc, stay with him! Come on", she said to Don as she stood up and ran back to town, Don in tow. Seeing a shed with a wooden door, Grace sprinted to it, "kick the door in!" In one kick, her and Don flattened the door.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bill screamed, running up behind them.

"Help us!" Grace yelled to him.

Immediately, the three of them picked up the door. Dodging bullets and flying debris, they sprinted. Holding the door behind them, they ran, dragging it back to the ditch where Buck was, still laying there with Doc.

"Lieutenant, I'm gonna need you to lay face down!", Gene called out, recognizing their make-shift stretcher. Within seconds, they had Buck laying down on the door, holding to the top as Bill, Grace, and Don half carried, half dragged it behind them.

"Keep moving! Keep low!" Captain Winters called out as they made it to the trucks. "Grant! Is Buck alright?" Winters spotted them as Gene yelled for Medics to come forward to help them.

"Yes sir!" She called out as Gene, Spina, and McAllister helped load Buck onto one of the troop trucks.

"One bullet, four holes", Bill said as Lip came to a stop beside them. "Hey Lip, I don't think we know where Bull is". Staying beside the truck, Grace's stomach dropped hearing that.

"Lieutenant Grant on me!" Winters yelled out. Grace turned and followed Winters as he called out to men running by, "let's go! Keep moving!" He came to a stop beside a tank, watching as the last of the men made it to the trucks.

"How bad?" Lewis appeared to their left, looking into the town with them.

"Grant?" Winters asked.

Grace was about to answer when….

PING!

Lew's head and body flew back and landed hard on the gravel road.

"LEW!" "NIX!" Grace and Dick yelled together.

Grace threw herself to her knees by Lew's side, her hand cupping his cheek and jaw. Her eyes scanning his then looking him all over as Dick knelt down on Lew's other side, his hand on Lew's knee.

"I'm alright, I'm alright!" Lew said, shaken. Breathing hard, he looked up to Grace's face, her breathing shaky and erratic. "Am I alright?" He asked.

"Yeah", Dick said, relieved.

"You feel alright?" Grace asked, her voice out of breath.

"Yeah, quit lookin' at me like that!" Lew exclaimed, scrambling to get up.

Scooting over to the side of the tank, Grace spoke, "Captain, we've got four dead, eleven injured."

"Ok", Dick replied, "let's move 'em out".

"And Randleman is missing too", Grace finished.

"Randleman?" he responded.

"Yes sir", she said simply.

A look of extreme fatigue and sadness clouded his features for a second before he looked back up at Grace again, "ok, let's go". Grace nodded and helped him up, then ran back to the trucks.

"I could use you in here, Gracie", she heard Buck's hoarse voice yell to her as she ran over to see what truck to jump into. Smirking, Grace put her foot up and reached to the bar to hoist herself up when someone grabbed her pack straps.

"I got you, Grace". Looking up, Grace recognized the voice. Floyd gently pulled her onto the truck and helped her get her pack off.

"Thanks Tab", she said, overwhelmed and happy to see him alive and unhurt.

"You got it", he said, sitting back down.

Grace knelt down to Buck, watching Gene work on him, "you alright, Buck?"

She turned her eyes to Buck as he looked up at her, wincing slightly at the truck's movements, "you got me outta there".

Grace bit her lip as she stroked his face, "Bill, Don, Skip, Gene…we all got you outta there. You got yourself outta there too." He smiled softly up at her as Gene stuck him with morphine. She smiled back, "I'd never leave you out there".

"He's gonna get sleepy soon", Gene remarked. Grace knew too, as a side effect of the morphine. Quickly, she threw off her jacket, gently held Buck's head up, and slid her jacket under as a pillow. She smiled warmly at him as he closed his eyes and dozed off.

Looking up, she saw Tab staring at her. He nodded, scooted over, and patted the space next to him. Fighting back tears, she sat down and looked back to the town. Pillars of black smoke billowed up from the wrecked buildings. Her gut lurched as she thought of Bull who may still be there. Her thoughts drifted to Ron…was he ok?

Grace had been in war before; she had seen men die. The image of Buck getting shot, asking them to leave him there, abandon him there, for the Germans was a hard hit to take. Buck had become another big brother to her, Bull as well. She swallowed hard, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm herself down as a warm hand entwined itself with hers.

Opening her eyes, she looked over to Tab's face. She wondered idly if she looked as tired as he did. Studying his wide eyes and boyish features, his tan skin stained by streaks of dirt.

She had Tab here beside her, she had one of her best friends back. She prayed George was alright. She had not seen him. The look in Tab's eye told her he hadn't seen him either. They stared at each other, their relief, fatigue, and horror mirrored on each other's faces. In that moment, the few days they had gone without speaking that had felt like weeks, melted away. Silence made the real conversations between friends. It was not the saying, but the never needing to say that counts.

Ooooooooooo

That night after making it back to their line, they had the men digging foxholes for shelter in the middle of a clearing. Grace had helped unload Buck and get him to the aid station and stayed with him until he'd fallen asleep.

After making sure he was sound asleep, she got up, her muscles groaning, grabbed her rifle, and walked out of the tent – heading back to Easy.

"Hey Grace", she looked over to Bill who was walking towards her, "how is he?"

"He's good. Asleep and on pain medication, so really good."

"You heard about where Bull is? Any news?" He asked, anxious.

Grace slowly shook her head, "I haven't – been here with Buck since we got back. Maybe his squad heard something?"

Bill nodded solemnly, "let's go". Grace walked beside him across the quiet, moonlit field.

"There's Hoobs", she said.

Bill knelt down b Hoobler, "hey Hoob – any news on the Bull yet?" Grace regarded Hoobler's spent and tired posture as he shook his head. Bill sighed, frustrated and spoke over Bull's squad, "if there 'aint no body, then there 'aint nobody fuckin' dead…you understand me?"

Grace bit her lip, not liking the idea of Bull out in the dark alone, "let's go look for him".

"I'll go, come on", Hoobler spoke, standing up, taking a step towards Grace.

"Not just the two of you, you're not", Bill started, standing, "I'm coming with you, let me go get some ammo".

"That's ok", Hashey and Garcia stood up, "I'll go".

"Me too", Garcia said.

Grace looked over their faces and nodded, "alright".

"Go get him", Bill said.

Grace made to follow Bill when someone called her name, "Grace?"

She turned around, "Gene?" Gene stood with McAllister and looking at his stressed face, she grew worried, "is Buck ok?"

"What's wrong with Buck?" Bill said, sensing Grace's discomfort.

"It's not Buck…"Gene started, "It's Lieutenant Speirs".

Grace's heart stopped and her blood left her face, "what's wrong?"

"He's got a nasty shrapnel would and he won't go to the aid station. I knew you could take care of it…it's pretty complicated."

Gene could have told her Ron had a splinter, she would drop everything, no matter what. "Where is he?"

**Review pretty please!**

**I will update again this week.**


	23. Chapter 23

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**A big THANK YOU to 'sweetsweetsacrifice' for reviewing constantly….I really appreciate it.**

"_Silence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and blows up the bonfire"._

_Francois de la Rochefoucauld_

"It's not Buck…" Gene started, "it's Lieutenant Speirs".

Bill clenched his jaw as he looked intently over to Grace's paling face.

"What's wrong?" A deeply worried tone colored her voice.

"He's got a nasty shrapnel wound and he won't go to the aid station. I knew you could take care of it…it's pretty complicated", Gene answered as Bill kept his eyes trained on Grace.

Her tenor became deathly serious, commanding, "where is he?"

"Officer's tents", Gene said quickly.

"I managed to grab the supplies you'll need from the aid station", McAllister said, handing over a bag.

Grace took it, her feminine jaw set, "take me to him".

Bill was hesitant to leave her, "you need an extra hand, Angel?"

She turned to him, forgetting he was standing beside her, "No, I got this". She stalked off quickly, deliberately; Roe and McAllister jogging to catch up with her. She called over her shoulder back to Bill, "you make sure the boys find Bull!"

"God damn", Bill muttered to himself as he watched her walk away; Grace – in complete and full authoritative mode was damn near frightening, not something to be messed with. He could see perfectly now that the two Lieutenants were clearly meant for one another…they were so similar.

"Where's she going?" Bill turned to Tab, who was approaching, his eyes looking after Grace's retreating form.

Bill looked at him, putting a cigarette to his lips, "she's going to dig shrapnel outta Speirs".

Grace had tunnel vision and time seemed to stand still as she practically prowled down the field toward the officer's tents and company CP's.

Her heart pounding violently in her ears, she spoke out, not bothering to turn to either medic, "how bad is it?"

McAllister answered, "decent size piece of tank got him in the left shoulder". Grace pressed her lips together as he continued and she neared the tents, "I tried to get him to the aid station after he pulled it out".

Grace stopped, turning to McAllister, "he pulled it out?" That was bad – if it had gone deep, it may have been keeping him from bleeding out too badly. "What tent is he in?"

Instantly walking forward at her question, McAllister led Grace to a tent under a large tree, its olive drab fabric softly illuminated from a light within.

Nodding to the two of them in dismissal, she strode forward and quietly stepped inside, her heart in her throat.

Her eyes sought him out instinctually.

He was shirtless, his tan back to her, facing away from the door and sitting on a cot. She zeroed in on the three-inch gash that ripped down his shoulder blade.

"I am not going to the aid station", he said without turning around; obviously assuming she was another medic.

Her gaze and demeanor softened a degree at his guarded and demanding tone.

"I brought the aid station to you", she said simply.

Ron's heart skipped a beat and he let go of a breath he had been holding, when he heard her voice.

His posture straightening, he turned around, looking over his shoulder to her cautiously anxious face. Her BDU's were filthy, her fair skin streaked with dirt, and her shoulders set in an uncompromising pose.

_She looked otherworldly beautiful_.

There was no other person on the face of the Earth that Ron wanted to see more.

In that moment, he acknowledged the pain. Not in the dull pain from his shoulder, but the sharp pain in his gut at the very sight of her – here and standing before him – and being unable to have her; unable to merely tell her how he felt. For the first time he perceived that if you wanted to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.

There was a moment then, as the brief silence settled between them; a fleeting, quick moment drenched in melancholy and nostalgia. Their soft gazes lingering on one another; hope floating inside while pensive sadness touched their smiles.

Secrets – silent, strong – sat in the dark palaces of both their hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned.

In the blink of an eye, the moment was over, and as Grace was about to speak, Ron broke the silence first in greeting, "Lieutenant Grant".

Unwilling to face the pain of her rejection, Ron pushed any feelings of hope away stubbornly, half-hazardly. He pushed away the pain, the memories – preferring to keep moving. That had become his mantra as of late: do not dwell on things, do not stay in one place too long. It was the only way to stay ahead of the sadness.

Grace casually absorbed the formal greeting, playing along no matter how much it hurt, "Lieutenant Speirs". Stepping towards him, she motioned to the cot, "may I?"

He nodded, scooting over and making room. She sat near him, with one leg bent and tucked in, the other hanging off onto the floor. Ron was sitting rigidly off the other side, his wounded shoulder inches from her.

She examined the wound, noting that McAllister had done a decent job cleaning it up. Setting out items from the bag, she spoke, her face turned down, "you shouldn't have pulled it out". She kept her voice neutral, "you're lucky it didn't hit you too deep".

He kept his face void of emotion as he nodded, "I know", he said softly, absently. His attention was solely on her warm, delicate hands – touching him, gently cleaning his shoulder. He did not bother speaking more – the only thing he could think of was how he longed to stay right here with her and never move. He wanted simply to love her, make her happy; but he could not…and it was slowly killing him.

"You're going to need a few stitches", she whispered to him, readying a needle, thread, and morphine. At his silence she looked up at his profile, partially hidden in shadow. He was struggling with something – she could see it. She saw the inconceivable mystery of a soul that knew no restraint, no fear – yet struggling blindly with itself.

She administered the morphine as gently as she could, her shoulders relaxing with his; unconsciously calming and breathing right along in sync with him.

She wished bitter-sweetly that she could somehow be the air that inhabited him for a moment. She was fond of the thought of being that unnoticed and that necessary.

Glancing down, she put the syringe away and prepared the needle and thread…the weight of the silence began to eat at her. Suddenly, all of this was too hard. She was tired of putting up walls. She needed someone with the strength and the honesty to break them down. For now, however, she was resigned to play the game; afraid to go and ask the simple question she most wanted answered – not because she was afraid of a lie: she was afraid he would tell her the truth.

Looking up to begin, she was met with his intense and tired face. His depthless eyes buoyed her falling heart as he spoke in a caring whisper, "thank you".

"Always", she whispered back, saying the first thought that surfaced in her mind under his powerful gaze. His hazel eyes shone something unidentifiable, intangible, then he turned back to the wall.

She tenderly began to mend his shoulder while thinking one thing: if a violin string could ache…then _she_ was that string.

The minutes ticked by as Grace methodically sewed his shoulder. She was being absolutely careful and precise, her right hand working while her left hand rested lightly on the expanse of Ron's back. He didn't make a sound. With every slight twitch of his muscles under her fingertips, she compensated her sewing, not wanting to cause him any discomfort.

She frowned slightly in concentration. If she could not be with him – not even whisper how much he meant to her – then she would make damn sure she took care of him somehow.

Ron sat still for her, in a daze. He reacted in pleasure to her fingers ghosting over his naked back, his muscles dancing under her touch – it was much more of an effective drug than morphine. As relaxed as he was, in the back of his mind he was profoundly impressed by her diligent work – he barely felt anything.

There was not much conversation between them as Grace worked. The occasional 'are you ok' followed by a quiet 'yes, thank you' punctuated their comfortable, yet thick, silence. And though no other was present during their seemingly mundane encounter, should they _have_ been, they could honestly claim that the words exchanged were in no way personal or inappropriate – nonetheless the air, like the ambient sky that precedes a storm, had an unmistakable charge to it.

As much as either of them lied to one another and to themselves about their feelings with their thoughts and words – their actions spoke volumes of truths.

They hid because they wanted to be found; they walked away to see who would follow; they fell to see who would pick them up; cried to see who dry their tears and let their hearts be broken to see who would come fix them. Through all the miscommunication and misunderstandings there was one truth: fate determined who walked into their lives, but it was up to them to determine who they would let walk away, who would stay, and who they refused to let go.

Snipping the end of the thread, she put down the needle and scissors and picked up a bandage. She sterilized the area and softly pressed the bandage to his shoulder. Leaning over him, she put her arms around his chest, winding the bandage around him to secure it. She could hear him softly gasp at her sudden proximity. Her cheeks reddened at her boldness and unapologetic silence.

Tying the loose end, she remained close to him, mutely breathing in his earthy scent. "All done", she softly said.

"Grace…" he started, turning around and watching her as she paused and looked up at him from putting her things away. Her angelic face inches from his…her lips so close… He cleared his throat softly, suddenly looking away, "thank you".

She sighed kindly, putting the bag over her shoulder. Reaching out she placed her hand over his, enjoying the way his fingers automatically curled around hers, "I'm just happy you're alright". She was so close to him, she could see his jaw clench as he nodded curtly. She squeezed his hand and stood up, "goodnight".

Meeting silence, she turned to the door and began to walk out. As she stepped one foot out, she heard him answer back.

"Goodnight Lieutenant".

Oooooooooooooo

Making her way back to camp, she walked slowly, blinking back stinging tears. If she could be alone, for five minutes, she would be weeping…drunk on the impossible.

Being so close to him…it was painful.

Turning on her heel, she headed straight for a line of trees that flanked the officer's tents. Feeling a hot tear roll down her cheek, she knew she only needed a few minutes. She needed to be alone. She needed to ponder her shame and despair in seclusion.

Stopping by a large tree, she leaned against it. Hit head-on by brutal loneliness; she felt dark, hollow, abandoned, unnoticed, forgotten.

In this unconditional moment of utter weakness, she cried. She cried for her men, for what had happened in Neunen, for Ron and what they'd never have, for Lew, for Tab and George; she cried for herself, she cried because she was afraid that she herself might expire to be, that she might die. She'd dodged the chance so many times before…she thought she felt it coming. It frightened her – because she was alone in the world, because her desperate and empty life was _not_ an overture but an ending, and through it, all she could see was the shape of a coffin.

Ron. She loved Ron. She longed for him, but she also longed for the love to perish. What good could come of it? She knew in her heart, it would never die. Unrequited love does not die: it is only beaten down to a secret place where it hides, curled and wounded.

She wanted to forget, that was what she really wanted at this weak point: to forget so thoroughly that she would never have another memory again…the bitter so bitter she gave up the sweet.

Oooooooooo

Several minutes later, Grace collected herself and made her way purposefully back to Easy. She wanted to check with Bill…see if the boys had found Bull.

"Gracie?" Looking up, she saw Tab. Gazing at her under the moonlit field, she could see his uncertain face and his hands limp at his side.

She nearly broke down again, relief flooding her at the sight of him. Swallowing hard, she smiled, "hi Tab".

They were silent for a minute. Floyd desperately searched her tired face; her eyes were glassy and red – he knew what that meant, he had sisters and Grace was as good as a sister to him, if not more. Asking 'are you ok' was just pointless…she would say 'yes' no matter the circumstances.

"How's Speirs?" He asked sincerely.

Grace didn't bother asking how he knew…these men were worse than the old ladies at the tea house. "He's fine…needed a few stitches".

Nodding, Tab stood silent again, not sure how to begin. George said it would just come to him in the moment…but he was tongue-tied. "I'm….I wanted to say…" he started. Grace looked at him softly, understanding. "I'm just so sorry, Gracie. I'm so sorry".

Grace shook her head, "Floyd, it's alright…"

"No", he interrupted her, "no, it's not alright. I jumped the gun back in England and I shouldn't have…" he stopped himself, his eyes wide, "not that I didn't _want_ to. I did…and I know you saw me and that dame in Eindhoven…and that was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. You and Speirs belong together…"

This time Grace interrupted him, "I don't know about that…Jesus".

"Yes, you do. Don't argue with me on that one, Angel. I see it. And I'm sorry…shit…I'm just sorry. Jumping into Holland and then after fucking Neunen…doing all that without you was fucking hell."

Grace smiled, tears in her eyes again, as she watched the silver-tongued Tab butcher an apology, "it's alright, Tabby. I love ya anyway. Even if you can't string a sentence together".

Tab laughed, "I don't know….sometimes I try to say what's on my mind, and it comes out sounding like I ate the dictionary and I'm shitting out the pages….sorry".

Grace laughed, "it's ok."

"Christ, what are we standing here for…come here Gracie bird", he said, walking to her deliberately and pulling her flush against him. She smiled against his chest, having missed him like crazy.

Ooooooooo

They made their way back through the throngs of men to find Easy.

"Hey! _There's_ Hansel and Gretel", George's voice found them, yards away in a large foxhole containing Bill, Johnny, Toye, Lieb, Don and Skinny.

"Hansel and Gretel?" Toye drawled.

'Fine…Jack and Jill", George fixed.

"Much better", Skinny said.

"How's Sparky?" Bill asked over the men, who immediately went quiet and looked to Grace.

Annoyance giving way to thankfulness at their genuinely concerned faces, she answered, "he's ok. Had a big piece of shrapnel in his shoulder and needed a few stitches", she finished..playing off like it was a piece of cake.

"Hey Wonder Woman!" Grace looked over to see Harry calling at her.

She smirked, "evening Captain America", she said as the men chuckled.

"Nix wants to see you", he said knowingly.

"Oh Jesus", she said under her breath.

"Go get 'em, Grace", Tab said to her as she winked and walked off with Harry to find Lew.

She found him, near Dick, standing on a hill overlooking a large valley. Far off, the Luftwaffe were mercilessly bombing a city…_Eindhoven_. Grace's stomach dropped at the site, thinking of all the village people who were so happy to see them…the little boy who gave her flowers and the old couple she shared a drink with.

"So much for getting home by Christmas", Harry whispered to her as they came to a stop near him.

Grace walked forward to Lew, who was feet behind Dick. She took his hand, watching his face lighten by the reflection of the flames and flashes of bombs. He squeezed her hand as Dick spoke out to all of them.

"They're bombing Eindhoven", he said blankly, staring out.

"Yea", Lew said.

Dick turned around his face downcast as he walked to them, "come on." He kept walking, "we're gonna be here for the night". He told them seriously.

Lew sighed, "they won't be waving orange flags at us tomorrow".

Ooooooooo

Grace got perhaps one or two hours sleep on George's shoulder that night. She chose to stay out with the men rather than go to the officer's tents. When the sun came up that morning, she was up with Bill….waiting to hear word on the search – the boys hadn't come back yet.

Sharing a cigarette with Bill, Grace turned as she heard an approaching jeep. Sitting inside was Bull. "Bill…" she breathed. Frowning at her, he looked over his shoulder.

"Well I'll be God-damned", he started, grabbing Grace by the hand and dragging her over.

"Bull!" They heard Johnny yell in relief.

The jeep came to a stop and Bull and his squad piled out of it.

"I don't know whether to slap ya, kiss ya, or salute ya", Bill said, shaking Bull's hand.

Bull smirked and pulled Grace to him, kissing her on the cheek. He grinned as she spoke, "glad to have you here, Bull".

Bill pointed to Bull's squad, "I told these scallywags you was ok".

"They didn't listen?" Bull asked.

"These salty bastards wanted to go on a suicide run to drag your ass back", Bill said, nudging Grace.

Bull turned to his men, amusement in his eye, "is that right?"

"We told them not to bother", Grace said, smiling.

Bull took in the sight of his tired and relieved squad, smiles on everyone's faces, "never did like this company none", he said.

Walking with Johnny, Bill, and Bull, Grace peered at Bull's shoulder…looked like another shrapnel wound.

"So they found you?" Bill asked as Johnny and Grace sniggered.

"Wait, what did you say?" Johnny asked.

Bill groaned, "don't irrigate me".

Grace laughed at Bill and ran forward, seeing Lew and Harry at the tanks, "what's the word fellas?"

"We're movin' out, girl", Harry said, "want the honors?"

Grace turned toward the men and hollered, "alright mount up! Get up – let's MOVE OUT!"

"Grab your gear, LET'S GO!", Harry yelled beside her.

Seeing Gene, Grace called out to him, "Doc, make sure you sit with Bull, he needs something for his shoulder".

"You got it, Lieutenant", Gene called, jogging to Bull's truck.

Grace and Harry stood with Lew and walked over to Dick as the trucks passed. "We may be heading into some more tanks", Lew said to them as they all walked to their jeeps.

"Well as long as it's only old men and kids", Dick said.

"Yeah", Lew said humorlessly.

"I don't like retreating", Dick announced sullenly.

"First time for everything", Harry offered good-naturedly.

"How are the other divisions fairing up north?" Grace asked.

Lew sighed, "I think we're going to have to find another way into Germany".

**Please, please review!**


	24. Chapter 24

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

October 5, 1944 Holland

With the last couple of weeks covering miles of the green landscape of Holland, and having thrown herself blindly into her work, Grace was happy to be sitting down – and indoors. They had all been outside, exposed to the cooling early autumn air, since what felt like an eternity.

From her spot on the farmhouse table beside George, Grace looked around to all the men as she leaned her freshly cleaned rifle against the bench.

In one corner, Bill, Hoobler, and Skinny were talking animatedly, leafing through some nudie magazine; Grace rolled her eyes. Johnny and Bull were tossing a stolen baseball between them; Don, Penkala, and Skip were joking over a shared card game. Lip and Smokey sat in companionable silence nearby.

Their faces all marred with dirt, BDU's dingy with wear. It might have been the lack of sleep talking, but Grace shamelessly had to admit to herself that even covered in grime, the boys still looked as handsome as they did when she first saw them in Georgia in the summer of '42.

_Jesus…had it been that long?_

Smirking softly to herself, she looked down to her own dirty hands.

"Penny for your thoughts, Angel", George spoke up.

Her thought interrupted, she looked over to his big brown eyes, "what's that?"

He smiled, shoving a cracker in his mouth, "you heard me".

He handed her a cracker and she took it, smiling and speaking in a low tone, "I was just thinking how unfair it is… that even covered in dirt, you're all still good-looking".

Barking out a laugh, he shook his head, "you're blind".

She laughed softly and nudged him with her shoulder; "I'm serious…" she looked down to her hands, "I was also thinking about stealing some nail polish if I come across it".

"You don't need any of that girly stuff", George said simply, reaching forward with his index finger, brushing her cheek, "dirt's a good look on you, doll face".

It was Grace's turn to laugh as Dick came to sit across of them, "evening Grace, Luz".

"Evening sir", they both replied as he nodded to them both and began cleaning his weapon.

It was late at night, there was a patrol out – routine, nothing special – and the atmosphere was a blessedly a hushed one; men finding places to sleep here and there over the barn. The replacements that Easy had acquired had managed to blend in for the most part over the passing months.

Near the door, Tab stood up with his new canine friend in tow, who was following a big stick that Tab held in his hand.

He came and sat down next to Dick, "new guys giving the replacements the 'what-for's' and 'why is'", he said as George held out a cracker to beckon the big German shepherd over. Grace smiled as the dog ate the cracker in one bite then licked her face. Tab continued, "I swear one of them has never shaved."

"Yeah…kids", Dick said solemnly, his eyes on his weapon.

"This is a hell of a dog, Tab", George declared, patting the dog's head.

"Thank you", Tab replied, throwing the stick across the room, "here ya go", he called as the dog happily chased after it.

"What'd you call it, Tab?" Dick asked.

Tab smirked and winked at Grace, "Trigger", she smiled back at him.

Another cracker in his mouth, George nodded his approval, "that's good, I like that…Trigger".

"You got anything on this?" Tab asked, gesturing to George's radio.

George shook his head, "nah, it's all quiet".

As if waiting for a queue, the barn doors busted open.

"WE'VE GOT PENETRATION!" Grace heard Lieb yell.

"ALLEY'S HURT!" Boyle hollered, following after him.

On her feet at once, Grace ran past Tab and George to the other table, where a bloodied Alley was being placed down.

Grace called over the men's voices as she grabbed Alley's shoulders, helping Lieb lay him gently on the top of the table, "We've got you, Alley, you're gonna be ok, I've got ya". She kept a hand on his neck, as she turned to Lip who was behind her. "Lip, go get Doc Roe", she ordered calmly, turning back to Alley as Lip dashed from the room.

"Where am I?" Alley hoarsely asked.

Grace leaned down to him, stroking the side of his face that wasn't cut up, "you're safe", she said, searching his eyes and listening to his breathing for any further injury. He had obviously been hit by a grenade and shrapnel.

"Gracie?" he asked and she smiled at him, nodding.

"Yeah…hey Alley", she said.

"Something happened….what happened", he asked quickly, looking over her features.

"It's ok, I'm here and you're safe – it's over, just keep your eyes on me…you look good", she said calmly, feeling Tab behind her.

"Where was it?" Dick asked, looking over to Liebgott.

"Crossroads", he answered, "where the road crosses the dike".

From beside Joe, Boyle spoke up, "if it wasn't for your loud mouth, they would have never known we were there".

"Hey, you know what Boyle – back off", Lieb snapped back.

Smokey stepped in between them, "knock it off guys".

"_Liesnowski", Winters called, "go send a runner for Lieutenant Welsh". From above Alley, keeping him calm and stable, Grace took a deep breath – knowing that they would be heading straight for the crossroads. He turned to Tab, "Tab, assemble me a squad"._

_ "Yes sir, FIRST SQUAD ON YOUR FEET!" Tab yelled immediately. "Weapons and ammo, let's move!"_

_ Gene ran up to Grace, "how's he doing?"_

_ "He's good, he's stable and ready for ya", she replied._

_ "Hey Alley", Gene said evenly._

_ "Hey Doc", Alley softly said back._

_ "Grace!" Winters called out. Grace turned around from the table, "you are on me", he finished seriously._

_ "Yes sir", she called, patting Gene on the back and lunging forward to grab her helmet, rifle, ammunition, and ran after Winters and first squad._

_Ooooooooooo_

_Creeping stealthily along the ditch by the road and nearing the dike, Grace held her rifle at the ready in front of her, breathing evenly. _

_This felt familiar. _

_In Africa, Grace had gone on many late night patrols with the special op's squad. They never wore backpacks or anything. Even as a medic, Grace had only a light, maneuverable cross-body bag. Slinking over a darkened field right next to the enemy with nothing but the chill breeze on her neck…it brought memories back._

_From in front of her, Tab turned around, scanning the area behind her._

_CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! _

_The well-known sound of MG fire echoed in front of their position. They were close._

_Grace hit the ground immediately next to Tab and Winters, staying low as the fire continued._

_ "Forty-two's?" Tab inquired beside her._

_ "Yeah", Dick answered. _

_ "What the hell are they shooting at? What's down that road?" he asked._

_ "Regimental headquarters", Dick answered._

_ Grace furrowed her brow, instantly thinking of Lew, "but that's three miles away, why give away their position?"_

_ "They 'aint as smart as me and you?" Tab quipped._

_ "Maybe, but we've got to check it out anyway", Dick replied, turning to face the two of them, his eyes on Grace, "Grace, you're with me on this. Tab, hold them here and wait for her signal"._

_ "Yes sir", Tab said back._

_Dick nodded to Tab, then to Grace as he scurried up the embankment of the road, Grace followed silently. _

Throwing herself over the top, she slid down the short dirt wall facing the road, clenching her jaw and looking to the right for any Germans. Dick leaned forward, then ran across the road; Grace followed his footsteps, sliding into the small ditch on the other side.

From this position, Grace could make out the source of the MG fire. Dick surveyed the area behind them then turned back to Grace and nodded.

Nodding once, Grace hoisted herself up back onto the road, ran across, climbed back up the dirt wall, and laid tummy down on the top.

Tab was there, his eyes appearing large to her in the dark.

Grace gave him the signal order with her right arm, and then slid down again to the road, waiting for them. She made eye contact with Dick and nodded to him.

Quietly, the men slid down the dirt and pressed themselves against the wall with her, waiting for her order. Looking to the line of them to her left and making sure they were all there, she held her arm out again and they all ran to the other ditch to join Winters.

Following Dick immediately, they ran into the field's grassy trenches while the MG team set up on the road.

Dick turned to Grace, Tab, and the rest of the men, speaking in a whisper, "this is our fall-back position…_here_…..mortars deploy…._here_….first squad on me. Go!" He nodded to Grace and took off down on trench with first squad as the mortar men took off to set up down another.

Grace ran silently to the beat of her heart and the breath of the men beside her as it began to lightly rain.

In front of her, Dick slowed and Grace could hear German voices. He gave the signal to halt.

Keeping Grace and the men there, he crawled forward to the top of the road and peeked over. He turned around and beckoned them to him. Grace turned and relayed the signal. They all sprang to their feet and crawled to Dick's position.

Falling in beside him, Dick leaned over to Grace and whispered in her ear, "second on the right". He continued calling out targets to the group until they were all accounted for, "wait for my signal".

Grace steadied her breath, focusing all of her attention onto the German she was ordered to take down. He was obviously an officer of some sort, wearing an unblemished helmet and standing beside the man shouting orders. Dick came to rest alongside her and aimed.

Keeping her eye trained on the German, feeling Tab's breath on her neck close to her, she exhaled slowly…waiting.

CRACK!

Reacting instantly, Grace steadily pulled the trigger. Her eyes remained on her target who fell immediately.

_One shot_.

The line of men next to her erupted in rifle fire, their bullets finding their targets one by one. The Germans turned their guns on them, yelling and surprised. Grace aimed again and claimed two more with her good shot before they were all on the ground and Dick was calling to them again.

"Fall back!" Immediately, she heard their men fire off their mortars and MG's.

Pushing away from the road, Grace crouched and ran back down to the trenches. She stood, counting, and making sure the men were accounted for before she turned to head back to their fallback position.

_ZOOM_! _ZING_!

As she ran, her adrenaline coursing through her body, she could hear and feel bullets whizzing by. In the night, they looked like zipping fireflies, zooming past, catching grass and thumping the dirt the flanked the trenches.

Reaching the fallback position, the men and Grace pulled their rifles and began firing back.

"How many Krauts are left up there?!" Cobb called out.

"No idea", Joe replied, reloading his rifle, "but we're gonna shove 'em with one blow".

"SUPPRESSING FIRE!" Dick yelled, running down the trench, barely dodging bullets.

Grace kept firing as she heard Dick on the radio calling for Peacock and Harry. He yelled for Dukeman to get the MG squad, and as Dukeman took off, a huge round of fire hitting him.

"Dukeman's down!" She heard George yell over the rounds.

"Keep them firing Grace! Hold 'em down!" Dick called to her.

Over the next twenty minutes, Easy managed to hold down the German's to their position.

Oooooooooo

Once dawn broke, the field was quiet and still. Winters and Grace were both laying down out on the field, looking toward the German position.

Dick looked over a map with Grace, speaking in a low voice, "the Germans are behind a side roadway embankment…we're in a ditch."

Grace sighed, seeing their poor position. "They can outflank us here as soon as they figure that out".

Tab crawled over to Grace and Dick, "sir, the balance of first platoon is here. Gordon and them all brought another thirty-cal" he paused, "sir?"

Dick put the map back into his jacket, "we're in a bad position and about to be outflanked if the Germans find out".

"So how many Krauts are we talking about?" Tab asked.

"Well there's a ferry crossing here", Grace offered.

"Could be a whole battalion as far as I know", Dick finished.

Tab nodded, "ok, what are your orders?"

"We got no choice", Dick started, then motioned them back to position. Making it back into the trench, he gave orders, "we'll do this: Grace, you'll take ten men along the dike with Tab; Peacock, you'll take ten men along the left flank; I'll take ten up the middle, so follow me. Questions?" at their silence, "go".

Grace crouched up and ran back down the line, Tab on her heels.

Stopping and facing her ten men, she whispered, "on me, waiting for Winters' signal. Fix bayonets". She pulled her bayonet out and clipped it onto her rifle, "go on the red smoke".

She turned back to Dick as he made eye contact with her then looked down the other line. Beside her, Tab pulled relentlessly on his lip, Johnny, Lieb, Bull, Perconte, Skinny, and Smokey all waiting on baited breath for the all-clear.

Dick pulled the tab of the smoke can, throwing it into the field as he got up and ran.

Grace watched him run into the open, toward the enemy, her heart pounding in her ears.

The smoke bomb made a thud, but didn't emit any smoke. Gritting her teeth, Grace feared the bomb was a dud.

Her legs tensed and ready to run out, Perconte lunged on instinct.

"No, wait for the signal", Peacock choked out.

A breath coming in a gasp, Grace cursed under her breath, "shit".

Tab tensed up beside her, "Jesus", he whispered.

Suddenly, a cloud of red exploded from the grassy field and Grace sprang up at once, over the trench and ran after Dick.

Her rifle out in front of her, Grace raced to the German line, the pounding of jump boots on the earth sounding like horse hooves on the ground.

In that moment, Grace did not think about what they were racing towards. It could be a whole company or an entire battalion….the only thing she could think of was: Dick needs us.

The field appeared to stretch on before her as they ran.

Clearing the red smoke, Grace's eyes sought out any signs of advancing Germans. She didn't see anything.

CRACK!

One single shot, followed by a barrage of gunfire, and Grace pushed herself faster, her lungs screaming.

Seeing Winters' kneeling figure, she threw herself along with her men onto the ground to form a solid line of continual fire just as Dick's clip emptied.

"Come on! Pour it on 'em!" Someone shouted over the fire.

"Come on boys!" Tab yelled from beside Grace.

Breathing in time with her shooting, Grace methodically aimed and fired at anything in a gray coat that moved. Easy had clearly caught them by surprise, and they needed to take advantage of this turkey shoot before the Krauts could organize themselves for an attack.

From her other side, Dick grunted. Grace looked to him, fearing an injury, but she did a double take when she saw his face turned to the right, looking over the small hill – at a whole other company of Germans that was armed and running their way.

It was the only time Grace had heard Dick cuss, "holy shit".

The fire on Easy's line intensified, attempting to respond to the influx in the enemy.

"It's a whole other company!" she heard Peacock yell over to them.

"No shit!" Tab yelled right back.

Grace gritted her teeth, trying to make each bullet count. The Germans were running across the field, attempting to gather to form an attack.

Dick picked up the radio, "Easy niner – Easy niner! We need reinforcements to our line now! Krauts in the open! Fire full and fast!" The Germans who had made it across the field were diving into foxholes behind logs; Grace squinted, trying to pop them before they could make it over. BOOM! Suddenly, earth on the German side was being flung into the air. "Grace!" Grace turned her face to Dick, his eyes intent and clear blue, "we need to establish where this fire is coming from!"

Grace nodded and ran after George. They landed on the other side of the road, facing out. "George! Send HQ a contact report!" He nodded and grabbed the receiver, speaking in an intent tone into it. "Boyle!" Grace hollered. He ran up to her position, "get up there where you can spot the origin of those rounds – go!" The fire was unrelenting as Grace held their ground as it shook from more rounds. Boyle made it to the center of the road when he was suddenly struck. "Incoming rounds!" she yelled.

"Easy company, take cover!" she heard Dick holler to her. "Take cover, it's German artillery!"

"Boyle's hit!" Geroge yelled back in his direction.

Grace ran out to Boyle, "come on, help me!" She was followed quickly by George and Dick as they picked him up and got him off the road.

Oooooooooooo

As the skirmish slowed and the fields quieted, Grace surveyed the damage. They had a field full of dead Germans and a handful of prisoners. Making her way to Dick who was standing by Peacock, Grace noticed the 'S' 'S' pin on all of their collars.

They had just taken out a whole slew of SS men.

Peacock had just figured it out too, "Jesus, Captain – they're SS".

POP! POP!...POP! POP!

Dick and Grace both turned their heads to the shooting: Lieb still had his rifle out in front of him, and was still firing off rounds in the enemy's direction. Grace set her jaw, knowing Joe's hot head and short tempter.

"Would you go take care of him?" Dick asked her, sounding exhausted. Grace turned to him, initially surprised he asked. "He needs to stop shooting - now", he said, the twinkle of anger not completely missing in his eyes.

"Yes sir", she responded, walking over and kneeling next to Joe. "Joe?" He didn't respond, "Damn it, knock it off".

"God damn it, what?" Joe said, testily, turning to her. His hardened eyes softened slightly seeing it was her.

She reached out and touched his neck, "you're bleeding".

He turned away from her, "ah, it's nothin' Grace."

She kept her eyes on him, "Winters wants you to take these prisoners back to Battalion CP, get yourself cleaned up".

"Yes, Lieutenant", he said agreeing and standing up, eyeing another round and loading it. "Come on, Kraut boys".

Growing frustrated with him, she stood up and turned to his retreating form, knowing that he had better lay off the attitude or pay for it with the Germans, "Joe?!"

"Yeah?"

"Drop your ammo".

"What?" he asked, looked over to her.

"Drop your ammo", she said again.

"Are you kidding me, what are you doin'?" his eyes were searching her incredulously as she grabbed his rifle, "Gracie…"

"Give me your weapon", she took it and immediately emptied the chamber and held up one round, "you have _one_ round…Johnny, how many prisoners do we have?!"

Joe rolled his eyes, cursing as Johnny called back to her, "we've got eleven right now, Lieutenant".

Grace spoke evenly to Joe as she gave his rifle back to him, holding his eyes with hers seriously, "you drop a prisoner, the rest will jump you. I want all prisoners back up at Company CP _alive_".

Joe relented, his eyes obeying her, "you got Lieutenant".

She watched him jog off, towards the SS prisoners who were now looking at her curiously. Dick came to a stop beside her, "couldn't have said it better myself".

Oooooooooo

After making sure Gene had anything he needed, and checking on her men who were resting on the sides of the hill, Grace made her way over to Dick. She stopped when she spotted Lew, trudging her way, his face tired and worried.

"Lew", she called out. His eyes flooded with tired relief as he made his way to where she had stopped near a jeep transporting the wounded.

"We got 'em on the run", Peacock said over to the two of them, his eyes trained on Lew.

Lew frowned, "what's that?"

"The Germans were flooding back towards the ferry crossing when we hit them with artillery", he said confidently, "it was like a turkey shoot".

"Grace?" Lew said as he walked into the field.

Peacock turned to her as she spoke, "then they hit us with their eighty-eight's, zeroed in on this crossroads."

He interjected as Lew turned to her, "we were lucky though – only twenty-two wounded".

Grace sighed and looked to the ground as Lew snorted and shook his head, "lucky…" he trailed off, "Captain Winters?"

"I'll take you", Grace said.

Lew nodded at Peacock, "carry on".

Grace walked forward silently as Lew followed her, navigating their way through the maze of dead German SS soldiers.

She was happy to be alive and unwounded…but she could sure go for a nap. Her eyelids grew heavier with her aching shoulders every minute.

"You alright?" Lew asked gruffly behind her.

She turned, allowing him to walk alongside her, "I'm fine…you?" He nodded his head once, his eyes raking her form over. Walking along the road, Grace pointed to Dick, who was leaning up against a piece of wood sticking out of the ground.

"Twenty-two wounded, huh?" Lew asked, his voice back to normal. "You ok?"

"Yeah", Dick replied, "one killed".

"Who?" Lew asked.

Grace leaned up against the side of the post beside Dick, "Dukeman", she said.

"Yeah", Dick confirmed.

"Dukeman", Lew said solemnly. "You're looking at two full companies of SS out there; about fifty dead, another hundred wounded, seven up in the regimental cage plus a string of them up there. That's not bad for Dukeman". Grace looked over sadly to Lew who was gazing out at the field.

"You got a drink?" Dick asked to Lew's quirked eyebrow, "…of water", he clarified.

Lew stood up, produced his flask and took a whiff, "yeah, that's water". After taking a swig, Dick handed it back and stood up. "You ok?" Lew asked again. Without speaking, Dick turned to the road; he nodded at Grace, holding her eyes meaningfully, and walked back down to the men. Grace sighed and closed her eyes to the cool breeze that licked her face, "you sure you guys are ok?" Lew asked her quietly.

Grace opened her eyes to his serious and scrutinizing gaze, "it was a hell of a night, Lew", she sighed again, taking in the empty grass field, "we'll be alright".

Ooooooooooo

Colonel Sink spoke calmly to them at his jeep back with the men, "Three-sixty-three Volksgrenadier hit the town of Opheusden early this morning at exactly the same time your 'SS' made a run for m CP down the road. Third battalion got the hell beat out of them. Holley Horton was killed".

Lew lit two cigarettes beside her and passed one to Grace fluidly, "Major Horton's dead?"

Sink nodded, "they hit second battalion CP in force, he was organizing the defense." He turned to them, nodding, "Lieutenant Grant, Nixon – excuse us for just a minute". Grace and Lew nodded as Sink strode forward with Dick, who looked at them curiously.

"What's that about?" Grace asked.

"Horton's dead? Promotion – plain and simple", Lew responded.

Grace blew out a puff of smoke, "he'd lose Easy?" Lew nodded beside her. "Who'd command it?"

"Moose".

"Come again?"

Lew smirked, "Heyliger, Moose Heyliger. He's good", Lew turned to her, "don't worry – he'd like you".

Oooooooooo

October 17th, 1944 Schoonderlogt, Holland

Grace leaned casually up against the side of the barn in the small, vacant town they had occupied for the last week. She calmly put her cigarette to her lips, looking around. The rest of the 101st milled about the camp, completely unaware that the barn was full of Easy Company men – their faces smudged with dirt, preparing for their night secret rescue mission of the British 1st Airborne.

This time, Ron wasn't there to smooth a line of soot down her nose before she left; nor was she there to touch his face either – Dog wasn't going on this operation. Exhaling softly, she watched as the smoked dissipated in the milky blue and purple light of dusk.

She had been to see him a few times over the weeks to check on his shoulder. She had done a damn good job of sewing him up…he was being an even better patient; taking care of it and all. In those brief, yet heated, moments they exchanged more than just words. With each stroke to clean his shoulder, with each wrap of a bandage, Grace attempted to impart on him, her wordless devotion. There was no way to say the words to him, or hear the words spill from his mouth, without colossal risk. Speaking was a gamble Grace was not willing to take while alone with Ron. She had done it before and felt foolish after. Her feelings for him rendered her lame. Love was like an hourglass, with the heart filling up as the brain emptied.

She wondered if anything needed to be said; she felt it _in_ her, _in_ her eyes: the secret was always there, in the way one person looked at another; the way the eyes communicated and spoke when lips never moved.

At the bottom of her heart, however, she was waiting for something to happen. Isn't that how it was supposed to end? How fate would have liked it best? If it bestowed upon her, a chance at happiness with him, that is. Shouldn't something happen? This brief lack of action had awakened her imagination back to life and she was day dreaming again.

It had been a while since she had felt this alone. With Easy's position in Holland, they were able to get a mail run.

Grace hadn't received any mail.

It wasn't out of the norm – she had _never_ received mail…who would she have received it from? It had never really got to her before…but this time, it had and the loneliness had snuck up on her.

Like shipwrecked sailors, she turned despairing eyes upon the solitude of her life, seeking something far away on the horizon. She honestly didn't know if what she'd find would lead her to Ron and a future with him, or lead her away from him…laden with anguish …or full of bliss; but each morning she woke and hoped the sign would come – that fate would tell her what to do. She listened to every sound, counted every heartbeat, and wondered if she had missed it. Then at night, always a bit more saddened, she lay awake and longed for the morning.

Even though she felt she had reached an impasse with fate, those brief moments alone with Ron were heavenly. Life was always like that: twenty minutes of misery for every two seconds of joy.

She still was not a platoon leader, but Dick had seen her more in-action than ever at the crossroads incident – and ever since then, he had made sure to include her in any and all operations since he'd been battalion XO.

Heyliger was a blessing to Easy, and to Grace. The man had a good sense of humor and had already heard about Grace – 'the woman who joined the paratroopers' – as he put it. He had full faith in her; she had been ready to face the firing squad, per se, so she was delighted their new CO wasn't a headache.

She smiled fondly, Moose reminded her of Chuck…she knew Lew thought the same thing – he got along with Moose well from the beginning.

"What's the word, MacArthur?" Lew's voice called to her and she smirked at his approaching figure next to Moose.

"All quiet, ready, and willing _Captain_ Nixon", she grinned.

"Still getting a kick out of the promotion, huh Grace?" Moose laughed.

"Obviously she is", Lew drawled, "Though I can't imagine why".

Grace shook her head, "if anyone deserves a promotion, it's you…but I've still got this image of the awkward teenager in my head".

"Ha!" Moose barked in laughter, "awkward Nix..is that right? I like that image".

Lew winked at Grace, "I was about as awkward as Clark Gable…and you know it".

"Yeah, yeah", she sniggered.

"How do we look for Pegasus?" Moose asked her. The rescue mission tonight a midnight had been dubbed 'Operation Pegasus' but Colonel Sink a couple days ago when they'd received it.

"We're golden…the boys are in there now getting ready", she replied.

"Perfect. Good work, Grant", Moose approved, nodding.

"You gonna know any of these Brits tonight, Gracie?" Lew asked.

She shrugged, "I was with the 1st, then Special Air Service, then Special Op's in North Africa…that was in '41 and '42…it's possible a group of them came back and got redeployed over here."

"Certainly won't be the first time you've saved their asses if I've heard right", Moose quipped.

Grace smirked, looking to the ground in embarrassment then back up to them, "word travels fast, huh?"

"Your reputation precedes you, Lieutenant", he said with a wink. "We've got to go touch base with Winters", he said as he snatched her cigarette from her fingers.

"Hey!" she laughed.

Lew smiled fully, walking away with Heyliger, "don't you know those things will kill ya?" She shook her head, smiling at him as he lit up one for himself.

Oooooooooo

Grace sat low and silent in her boat with her men and Colonel Dobie. He had introduced himself before they had moved out, saying he had heard about her. He didn't seem chuffed by her presence, so she was hoping his 'hearing' about her had been from Sink or Winters.

The boat slid up the bank and Grace jumped out coming to a crouched position beside Heyliger and Dobie.

"I've got a thirty-cal on the left flank", Harry said to them after checking the men had made it over and set up.

"Extend it out to the left ten yards". Heyliger said.

"Yes sir", he said, getting up and running to relay the order.

"So Colonel, where are they?" Moose asked as Grace's eyes probed the woods.

Dobie looked out and pointed, "Cahill". _Cahill_? Her old Lieutenant?

"Sir", a voice responded.

"Come on in", Dobie commanded.

Recognizing him immediately, Grace inwardly shook her head at the chances as Cahill knelt down beside them and shook Dobie's hand, "sir".

"Good to be back", Dobie responded.

Moose held out his hand, "Heyliger, five-oh-six of the hundred and first airborne". He gestured to Grace.

"Lieutenant…" she began.

"Grant…you think I wouldn't remember you? I've never been so happy to see a bloody yank", he winked at her.

"Your show Colonel", Moose said,

Dobie turned to them both, "I'll be back shortly". He stood up and ran into the woods with Cahill.

Moose turned to her, "you served with him?"

Grace nodded, "yeah. I dragged him from a German platoon after I got shot".

Moose sniggered, "Jesus…I was kidding when I said you'd saved them before".

Lieb ran up to them, "boats are all secure, Lieutenants".

"Bull", Moose called as Bull came up to them, "Brits are on the way, pass the word".

Dobie, Cahill, and another man emerged from the woods as he shook Moose's hand, "Moose Heyliger…God bless you my man".

Moose shook his hand, "we're ready to go, sir, where's the rest of you?"

The man nodded to Cahill as he stood up and called forth the rest.

"And here we all are", he declared.

Moose nodded, "well let's go"

Ooooooooo

Heyliger, Grace, and Harry escorted the British back to camp and right to the barn where Sink had placed a whole case of booze.

Grace stayed outside as the men filled into the barn. If Cahill was there, who was to say who else would know her? She preferred to slink in undetected, grab a few beers with her boys and get out.

Slipping in through the back, she made her way through the cramped room over to Lieb, Don, Tab, Bill, Bull, Lew and Harry.

"Hey Angel, where ya been?" Bill asked, pulling her to him.

"AHHOOOYY!" Cahill shouted over the crowd, the Brits responded back, yelling in good cheer.

"AHHOOOOYYY!" Beside her, Bill and the men shouted at the top of their lungs, raising their glasses.

Dobie stood in front of them and spoke over them, "Moose Heyliger and the American 101st have done the Red Devils a great service. Making it possible for us to return…and fight the enemy on another day." The men shouted in agreement and Grace looked over to Nixon who put his flask to his lips, winking at her. "To Easy company, victory, and Currahee!"

"CURRAHEE!" Grace shouted with them.

"Hey Gracie where's your drink?" Harry said, thrusting a bottle in her hand.

"You're gonna share with her, Welshie? Jesus – is the world ending?" Lew said laughing.

"I share plenty", Harry argued as Grace took a healthy swig and passed it back.

"Thanks Harry", she said.

"Any time, doll", he smiled and walked away, going to mingle with the Red Devils.

She smirked, her eyes darting across the room when they landed on the pinched face of Private Edgars. The man who she punched back in Aldbourne, the man who nearly got her killed then ratted her out to her XO and got her discharged from the British.

Grace felt sick and irritated looking at him, hoping like hell he'd just forget she was there.

His dark eyes narrowed on her and he smirked darkly, shaking his head and turning back to his mates.

"Lieutenant Grant", Grace looked over to see Cahill walking towards her.

"Lieutenant Cahill", she responded, smiling.

"Good God, of all places to meet again", he laughed. "Surely when I saw you in that field hospital, I imagined meeting you again over a pint in London…not over whiskey in a dusty barn in Holland".

"You and me both, Lieutenant; I'm glad to finally see you on two feet".

"Please, call me Henry", he said, "and I'm here and standing…though you and your men _did_ have to come get us. I owe you a debt, Lieutenant".

"Call me Grace…and you don't owe me a thing, I promise", she shook her head, smiling at him.

Cahill smirked at her, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges, "you know…if you ever do find yourself in London, you should call on me. That is….when we claim our victory and get out of this mess", he said sincerely to her.

Grace softly laughed with him, "it can't be over any sooner", she agreed. "And I'll remember to look for you…if I'm ever in need of a drinking partner in London", she said to him, flattered that he was so bold as to ask her something like that right away.

"Lieutenant!" Dobie called over to him and smiled at Grace.

"Duty calls, Grace", he said, "if I don't see you before we move out, take care of yourself".

She nodded her head, "likewise, Henry". She smiled at him as he squeezed her hand and then bounded over to Dobie as she made her way to her men.

"What's the story Gracie-bird?" Don asked as she turned to them.

"I think their Lieutenant asked me out", she said.

"You're shittin' me", Lieb said, smirking.

"Nope". She said, looking over the crowd, trying to keep an eye on Edgars.

"Well, what did you say?" Bill asked, "no, right?"

Grace frowned, "what? No – I said yes, sure, why not?" She smirked at their incredulous faces, "what?"

"It's that easy?" Don asked. Grace shrugged and laughed. "You wanna go out with me sometime?"

Grace laughed as Bill sniggered, "I was her friend first, Malark – she's goin' out with me".

"Ha ha, real funny boys…who wants a beer?" She laughed again, shaking her head.

Ooooooo

A handful of beers later, Grace made her way outside to get some fresh air, turning around to make a joke to Don, Bill, and Lieb…but they weren't there.

How had she lost them? She thought they had followed her out here.

From inside the barn, Ron was sharing a drink with a few of his fellow Lieutenants from Dog when he saw Grace make her way to the door.

His eyes snapped to Guarnere, Malarkey, and Liebgott close behind her about to follow out. Breathing an internal sigh of relief, Ron checked the corner making sure that British fuck who tried to punch Grace back in Aldbourne – Edgars – was still there. He was. Ron turned his attention back to his men.

Grace stood a few minutes, an unlit cigarette in her hand, waiting for them to come out of the barn. After a minute, she walked back and peeked in…the party was still going, but she couldn't see the boys….only the British, other Easy men, and a handful of Dog and Fox company's men who had snuck into the party.

Walking forward back outside, she looked up at the stars, then closed her eyes to the sound of crickets.

Sighing and shrugging, she pocketed her cigarette and turned back around to the barn and there standing in front door was Edgars.

Grace fought the urge to flinch as she stood her ground, "Grant", he said lowly, obviously drunk as he walked out towards her.

"Edgars", she said evenly, dangerously…warning him to stay away. She turned on her heel to head directly to barracks.

"Where you goin'?" he asked from behind her.

She stopped and spoke not turning back around, "let's not do this".

Suddenly he was directly behind her, "I'm not letting you run away again".

Anger flaring up inside of her, she turned around and came toe to toe with him, "you remember what happened last time", she said in a low voice.

"I spent two days in a holding cell because of you", he slurred, grabbing her wrist abruptly.

Grace's pride and arrogance towards this man, which had goaded her to stay and duke it out, fled immediately when his hand tightened painfully on her wrist; she began to rack her brain on ways to get away, "did you?"

"Don't play fucking cute with me, pet", he said in a low voice.

Putting his empty glass down, Ron's eyes swept the corner to confirm Edgars was still there. His jaw clenched when he saw the corner now vacated. Swiftly looking over to the doorway, Ron spotted Guarnere, Malarkey, and Liebgott just now making their way outside.

"There's a time and a place for this shit, Private", Grace said, sucking in a gasp at pressure from her wrist; there were definitely be a bruise tomorrow.

"_Private_, huh?" Edgars sneered, "don't expect me to call you _Lieutenant_ after I'm done with you".

"Grace?" Don's alarmed tone called to her. She looked over Edgars' shoulder and saw him with Bill and Joe, their eyes searing into Edgars.

"What the fuck?" Bill's voice said from the doorway.

"Did you call in your little army?" Edgars muttered to her, loosening his grasp, seeing he was outnumbered.

Grace pulled her arm back from him and backed away, shaking her head. "It's fine, it's fine", she called to Bill, Don, and Joe, nodding. She looked back to Edgars and glared, "this is over, do _not_ come near me again." With that, she turned and stalked off back to officer's barracks.

Bill, Don, and Joe watched with narrowed eyes, making sure Edgars didn't try to follow Grace. Bill's jaw clenched and unclenched as Edgars made his way sluggishly up to the doorway and pushed through the three of them back into the barn.

"Fuckin' piece of shit", Joe muttered under his breath as Bill stared him down and Don spit on the ground at hm.

Ron furrowed his brow as Edgars stumbled back into the barn, Guarnere, Malarkey, and Liebgott shooting bullets through their eyes at him. _Where was Grace_?

Ron excused himself from the conversation he was in, stalking over to the three Easy men, "what's going on?" he demanded tensely, looking at Guarnere then over to Edgars who appeared to be gathering hi jacket to leave.

Bill glanced sideways to Don and Joe who were looking at Speirs quizzically, "well, sir – you remember that Private over there?" Bill didn't have to wait for an answer, Speirs turned his darkened eyes back on him as if to say 'get on with it'…Bill could take a hint, "he had some words with Gracie…I mean, Lieutenant Grant...outside, sir. He grabbed her arm." Ron's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Don spoke up, "she's alright, sir, she walked back to officer's barracks."

"We stayed here to make sure that limey don't go after her", Joe finished.

Ron watched as Edgars made his way out the back door of the barn with another British Private, "right…dismissed", he muttered, his keen eyes locked onto Edgars' retreating form.

Oooooooooo

A couple hours later, Bill, Don, and Joe made their way outside to head back to barracks; Johnny and Bull behind them.

"Who wants a bet they'll give us turkey and hooch for Thanksgiving, huh?" Don asked the men as he threw his jacket on and walked to the barn door.

"Are you shittin' me?" Johnny laughed, "hell, we'll be lucky if we get Spam".

"Little early to be thinkin' about Thanksgiving, huh Malark?" Bull said, an eyebrow raised.

Joe sniggered, walking out the door…and running right into Bill's back, "hey, why'd you stop – what gives?" Joe looked over in front of Bill to see what he was looking at…

Private Edgars was knocked out cold, blood on his lip, and sprawled out on the wet cobblestone street.

Beyond him, casually lighting a cigarette and leaning on the lone lamppost was Lieutenant Speirs.

"What the shit?" Don whispered.

"Lieutenant", Bill called in a tense greeting, his eyes tightly appraising the mysterious officer with reserved admiration.

"MP's have been called. Nothing to see here", Speirs offered coolly, meeting their eyes briefly then looking away with finality.

"Sir", Bill said in parting, leading the men away, down the road and over to barracks.

Don, Joe, and Bill all exchanged knowing and impressed glances with one another as Bull and Johnny followed them.

Ronald Speirs obviously had no qualms literally _fighting_ for their Gracie.

**Please, please review.**

**Let me know what you think. This was a hard one to get out for me.**

**Thank you!**


	25. Chapter 25

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

October 31, 1944 Driel, Holland

"You've got squat, Joe", Grace whispered to Liebgott, peering over his shoulder at his cards.

"Is that right?" he replied sneakily. "I don't see you holding a hand", he quipped over his shoulder at her, winking.

Sniggering, Grace shrugged, "I'm a better poker-observer than poker-player".

Don laughed, "you'd think after all the time you've been in the army, you would have picked up a few tips, Angel".

"I've never met a Brit who could play poker the way Americans do", she said.

"Seriously?" George asked, his eyebrow quirked as he threw a card down and picked up another.

She nodded, playing with an unlit cigarette, "Brits can't lie the way we do", she smiled, "give me some darts though…"

"Yeah, we know – you'd whip all our asses", Bill laughed dryly.

Toye looked around the darkened mess hall, "we've been here long enough…we should scrounge a dart board, string it up".

Tab smirked at her, "Gracie, now that you're a platoon leader, you can make that happen, right?"

Grace smiled back at him, rolling her eyes. Heyliger and Winters had signed to make her second platoon's leader. Since her action at the crossroads, then at Operation Pegasus, Colonel Sink had pushed her paperwork through. The men were delighted and Peacock was moved to third platoon. The change had come as a surprise for Grace, but she had immediately thrown herself into the work it required. She had never been more satisfied with her work and the impact she was making.

"Oh definitely", she drawled, "while I'm at it, I'll make sure General Taylor knows the hundred-and-first needs a full bar, live entertainment, and dancing girls".

"That's what I'm talking about", Don said, laughing with the men.

"GRACE!" Harry burst into the mess hall, his eyes wild.

"Harry?" Grace stood up, grabbing her jacket, "what's going on?"

"Moose was shot by friendly fire – Winter's needs us", he said hurriedly.

Not bothering to put her jacket on anymore, she threw it down and ran out after Harry, leaving the men to look worriedly at one another, their poker game now forgotten.

Running out onto the side of the road near train tracks, Grace could see Dick hunched down over Moose, who was still. A pale and shaken private ran up behind Harry and Grace at the same time.

Grace knelt down next to Moose, leaning in to him to hear his breathing. She began unbuttoning his jacket, noticing the absence of any used syrette needles on his lapel. _He hadn't been given morphine yet_?

"Private", Dick said tensely.

"Sir, medics are on their way with an ambulance, sir".

"Harry, I need your aid kit", Grace said evenly. As Harry passed it to her, she pulled her pocket flashlight out and gently opened one of Heyliger's eyes, "Moose?" she called. He grunted softly and Grace sighed as his pupils reacted to the light, "you're gonna be alright". She frowned at Moose's lethargy and hesitated with the syrette in her hand. She looked up to Dick's concerned face, "did you give him something already?"

Dick answered, his breathing labored, "uh, yes…two or three syrettes".

Grace pulled the needle away from Moose, "two or three?" she repeated, disbelieving as she shoved it back into the aid kit. She clenched her jaw, breathing hard as she began cleaning Moose up, trying to regain her composure. The amount of morphine in his system could kill him alone without any bullets in him. She couldn't change what had happened, all she could do for Moose now was prep him for Roe.

Minutes later, Moose was cleaned up and Roe helped Grace, Dick, and Harry load him into the ambulance.

"How much morphine did you give him?" Roe asked Grace, "I don't see a syrette on his jacket".

Dick immediately stepped in front of Grace, "she didn't, I did before she got there…two..or three syrettes".

Grace knew Gene was the best medic in the battalion, that he was passionate about what he did – so she wasn't surprised at the outburst, "Jesus, were you _trying_ to kill him?!" he barked, "you're lucky he's a big man!"

"Doc…", Dick started.

"We didn't know", Harry said.

Gene interrupted, "yeah, well you oughtta know", his eyes flashed at Dick, "you are Officers, you are grown-ups, you oughtta know!"

Gene had just said everything that was in Grace's head; her gut tightened in guilt at the stressed look on Dick's face as he patted the ambulance window, sending it off. The silence held after the sound of the ambulance left them. Dick turned to Grace, his eyes holding within them a very familiar question.

She held his gaze confidently and nodded softly, "it's going to be a long recovery, but he will be fine; I promise", Dick nodded at her, looking to his bloodied hands then to the ground and began to walk back to base; Harry and Grace in tow.

Dick bid them both goodnight before heading off to HQ.

"I wonder who they'll get to replace Moose", Harry said.

Grace shook her head, "Jesus….no idea".

Oooooooooo

My Dear, Strapping Buck –

I'm writing you now from France. That's right, we finally got the hell out of Holland….I'm one step closer to Paris! When we get our passes to go, you had better meet us there. I owe you a glass or two of some good champagne.

I hope you're well, that the hospital you're in is a nice one, and that you're hanging tough (as Dick would say). We're all thinking about you, everyday – it's entirely too quiet around here without you giving the boys a hard time.

Rest up, take it easy, and get back here soon.

Love, xoxo – Grace

Oooooooooo

November 1944 Mourmelon-le-Grande, France

A week later, Easy was still without an 'official' C.O. – there was no urgency, being without orders to move out and all. The platoon leaders, officers, and NCO's were handling things. Rumor had it, however, that their new C.O. had been chosen and was on his way to them as soon as the paper cleared.

"We're looking like a rag-tag group of paratroopers these days", George said beside Grace and Tab following dinner, surveying the camp.

"Just because we're short-handed don't mean we couldn't jump into Berlin and end the war ourselves", Tab said.

"Cheers to that", Grace responded. She knew that at sixty-five percent strength, the only thing keeping Easy on its feet were Toccoa men. Whoever their C.O. would be could make or break them.

"Medic!" a call broke the relatively quiet evening.

Grace stood up and began to run to the voice, squinting thought the waning sun, "Joe?"

Toye grabbed her hand, "come on, it's Bill".

She jogged with him, calling over her shoulder to Floyd, "grab Doc Roe!" Tab turned and ran into base.

Before she could ask, Joe rasped out, "Bill took a ride on a motorcycle; jeep nearly killed him – he took a spill, scuffed his leg up".

Reaching a sharp turn in the road, Grace saw Bill sitting up on the side of the road next to a motorcycle; his face a mix of frustration, annoyance, and pain.

She knelt down beside him, "what did you do to yourself Wild Bill?"

"Nothing old Gonorrhea can't handle, Gracie-bird", he grimaced as she cleaned him up and began wrapping his shredded leg. "How long will this put me out for, huh?"

Gently tying the bandage on as Roe pulled up in a jeep, Grace sighed, "you banged yourself up pretty good but it's only a surface wound – you might have bruised the bone though….couple weeks and you'll be back raisin' hell with the boys".

"Weeks?!" Bill turned to Roe who was helping him into the jeep with Toye, "Doc, is the Lieutenant serious?"

"She's serious, Sergeant – up you go", Gene responded.

"You'll bust outta there in no time, Bill", Grace said stroking his cheek and winking, "we'll see you soon".

"Take care Bill, we'll be seein' ya", Joe said beside her.

"Yeah", he said as the driver started the engine and began to pull away. "Don't do anything stupid without me!" he yelled as the jeep drove down the road on its way to the hospital.

Ooooooooooo

One week later, Easy received its transplant C.O. – Lieutenant Norman Dike.

They first met him standing in formation, at attention, in the main assembly area of camp. Grace stood still beside Harry and Peacock, happy to be wearing trousers in the cool November breeze. She spotted an unfamiliar face in the jeep approaching them; Dick was driving and Lew sat next to him.

"Oh Jesus", Harry breathed.

"What?" Peacock asked quietly.

"I recognize him from battalion – didn't know his name though".

"Well what's the problem?" Peacock questioned.

"He's an airhead", Harry clarified.

Grace narrowed her eyes at the brunette man with the unconcerned expression on his face as he exited the jeep. His eyes lazily swept the company before he nodded to Dick and walked up towards HQ, Lew and Dick in tow.

"Wonderful", she whispered.

Oooooooooo

One week into Dike's new command, Grace was summoned to his office. It was early morning, before they were scheduled to begin another round of daily drills. She shook her head as she put on her jacket – daily drills? This company had made two combat jumps, fought in D-Day and Market Garden…and they were wasting their time marching circles on an empty black top in full gear.

Grace made her way outside and began to walk towards HQ when she spotted Ron. In the passing weeks, he had been scarce. She desired to see him again, to talk to him, to know more about him – too see whether she could find him like the ideal image which she had retained…or chance shattering that dream with reality. She laughed to herself, finding that she wished for the long-ago nights where they shared guard duty.

She made eye contact with him and smiled softly as she passed, "morning Lieutenant Speirs".

His eyes seemed to project a warmth that spread over her cheeks as he smiled back, "good morning Lieutenant Grant".

She nodded as she passed him, making her way into headquarters.

Stopping at Dike's orderly outside his office, she spoke, "I was called to Lieutenant Dike's office?"

The young man looked up to Grace, "yes, go ahead, he's expecting you".

Nodding her thanks, Grace walked to the door and let herself in, closing the door behind her and turning to the desk. Grace was surprised to see no one behind it. Her eyes darted around the bare walls, waiting for him to appear. After a second, she fiddled with her garrison cap in her hands as she turned back to the door.

Without warning, it opened and Dike walked in, a cup of tea in hand. Grace saluted, "Miss Grant", he said conversationally, waving his hand to dismiss her salute.

Grace lowered her hand, her stomach dropping to the floor….had he just called her 'Miss'? "Sir", she said.

"Do you care for some tea?" He asked absently, as he pushed some papers out of the way to make room for the cup and saucer – being overly careful not to spill. Grace opened her mouth to politely decline as Dike promptly sat down and interrupted her, "there's something I need to discuss with you".

"Sir?"

"You began as a medic", it wasn't a question, so Grace didn't answer as Dike picked up a loose piece of paper from his desk. "Been with the company since 1942, two combat jumps", he kept his eyes on the paper as he read, his voice fading into a murmur. "You spent time and jumped with the British?" Grace took a breath to respond but he cut her off again, "I think you'll be of better service to my company without a weapon."

Grace's heart constricted and her blood ran cold, "could you elaborate sir?"

Dike sighed lightly as he picked up a spoon and began to stir his tea, "Easy Company is short enough as it is. When we move out again, we are going to need all the qualified medics we can get". He briefly looked up to Grace's stricken face as he took a sip of the tea. Keeping her eyes down on his desk, Grace could not bring herself to remain quiet.

"Sir, second platoon requires an experienced Lieutenant".

"I have one in Lieutenant Peacock", he said, getting up to stand at his window, his back to her, looking over the rainy day.

"I understand that, sir…but I.."

"I am relieving you of your side arm, Miss Grant. You may get a medic's badge from the aid station".

"Sir, I must protest…" Grace began heatedly.

"That was an order", Dike said, "and since I'm letting you keep your silver bars, you should obey it". He shook his head, "I knew a woman in the paratroopers would be trouble. You'll be much happier with the medics. You will give your side arm to my orderly. Dismissed". Initially paralyzed with a potent mixture of shock and overwhelming anger, it took a second before Grace could move. Numbly, she stood up to stiffly salute Dike, but his back was still to her. "Make sure to shut the door on your way out", he clipped without turning around.

Grace's head was spinning. Take her men away from her, all her hard-earned responsibility; call her 'Miss' when she was a God damned commissioned Officer? _Let her keep her Lieutenant bars_? To add insult to injury, she had to surrender her side arm to a fucking orderly?

Fighting to keep her breathing under control, Grace closed the door behind her, gripping the handle. She unloaded the gun and pocketed the ammo. Walking quickly by the orderly's desk, he spoke to her.

"Miss…"

"That's _Lieutenant_ to you, Private", she growled dangerously as she dropped her side arm onto his desk.

According to her watch, she had one hour before their morning drill…which she wouldn't be leading.

She made her way outside, bursting at the seams and unsure of what to do with herself. She knew she needed to collect herself, alone, before any of her men saw her.

At the edge of the base, an old, abandoned shed housed broken jeeps and unusable equipment. She went straight there and kicked in the door. Walking to the center of the room, she breathed in the cool air that smelled of stale machinery and motor oil.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the round of ammo from her side arm. With the last bit of searing anger, she threw the round with all her strength across the shed, shattering a window of a rusted truck. The embarrassment and anger gave way to a deep-rooted resentment as she caught her breath, placing her hands on her hips.

"Grace?"

Grace's head dropped in defeat at his voice. This was not something she wished him to witness, "Ron". She turned to the door to face him; aware that even in her state, she still felt her heart race at his figure before her, "what are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing", he replied, his eyes searching her face.

Following his silence, Grace did not acquiesce, "I asked you first".

Ron walked in, stopped feet from her, "I saw you leave HQ and head straight here. You looked….bothered". 'No shit' Grace wanted to say impulsively. She held her tongue as she searched for something to say. Ron steadily watched as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands clenched at her sides, not speaking. That's when he noticed her empty holster, "where's your side arm?"

She met his eye line with an edgy fire in her gaze, "Dike relieved me of it". The contempt was obvious in her tone.

Ron furrowed his brow; she was clearly bothered – as was he. How in the hell was she supposed to be able to defend herself without a weapon? "Did he?"

"He said I could keep these though", she tugged on her collar, showing her First Lieutenant bars.

Ron felt himself growing angry. Shaking his head, he held a hand up to Grace, wanting to clarify _why_ she was _allowed_ to keep something she earned, "_let_ you keep them?"

She stopped pacing and walked closer to him, her voice lowering to a deadly whisper, "he took my men….my gun…and said I would be _better suited_ without it". Her tone hollowed out, "…that as a _woman_, I'd be better suited without it". Ron's stomach dropped; gazing at her, he wanted nothing more than to comfort her, protect her. Hadn't she proven herself over a hundred times to be here? She had to him, early on. She spoke again, her hands in her pockets, her eyes dropping to the dirty ground, "…I shouldn't be saying anything".

"Dike is incompetent…he's been here barely a month and everybody sees that", Ron looked over her worried face, "are you thinking people may agree with him?" She didn't respond, didn't nod, she simply lifted her eyes to his – the dim light in the shed reflecting their depth and exposing their glassy hue. Ron's heart broke as he clenched his jaw and spoke seriously, "there is no possible chance that's true".

He wanted to touch her, make her smile; but his breath was caught in his chest – he didn't know how to fix this. He could see she was struggling with herself – attempting to hide her frustration, fear…did she think he wouldn't be to detect it? He knew her face better than his own; the curve of her cheek, the dimple when she smiled, the light freckles that dotted across her nose. He knew the sharpness of her eyes and the square of her shoulders…he had memorized everything about her…he had watched her since Toccoa.

"How's your shoulder?" she asked in deflection. He watched her eyes search his, pleading him to drop the subject.

He was not about to give in, "it's better, thank you. This might be a good thing", he treaded cautiously.

Slight apprehension clouded her features, "a good thing?"

Ron swallowed, "being a medic".

A look of betrayal flooded her eyes, followed rapidly by confusion, fear, sadness, then reluctant and exhausted anger; her face was a kaleidoscope of emotion. Ron hated himself for saying it, but he was not about to apologize. She would be out of harm's way.

"You think that?" she whispered.

Ron felt bile rise up in his throat as he nodded, "I do".

"I shouldn't have a gun" it didn't come out as a question, as she looked at him disbelievingly.

"When we move out again, you won't be on patrols, you'll be safe", he said quietly, defeated.

She sighed, knowing he was coming from an honest place as she looked into his green eyes. "It's not about that, Ron", she quipped seriously.

"Tell me", he stated simply.

She looked down to her feet, shaking her head, "Jesus". Looking back up at him, she continued, "_off_ the record", she looked at him pointedly, "right now, I'm just Grace", she said softly.

He nodded, "then I'm just Ron".

"Dike…he took everything away from me", she said softly, "my gun…my platoon". The heavy silence hung in the air between them and Ron could feel his heart ache for her. "Sink told me before Nuenen that General Taylor didn't like the idea of me being a platoon leader". Her deep hazel eyes grew angry, "how do they tolerate an idiot like Dike, or a total moron like Peacock…but they can't get past _my_ sex?!"

Ron shook his head sadly, "I don't know".

"I don't get it…and I refuse to walk away from this, if _that's_ what they're trying to play. I don't care about the title. I care – desperately care – about the welfare of those men, of what Dike's leadership will lead to." Ron had never seen her so impassioned. Her eyes flashed before she closed them and breathed out, biting her lip, "I have to go…we're doing drills again this morning".

"We'll talk again", Ron said to her and she opened her eyes to him, "you're not in this alone, Grace".

Grace felt her heart warm exponentially as he gazed at her. "Thank you, Ron", she whispered.

She headed quietly towards the open door to go out to the assembly area. As she passed him, he reached out for her hand, grasping it in his. Their eyes met and Ron held her gaze strongly as she smiled gently at him. After a beat, he let go and her hand slid out of his as she squared her shoulders and walked out to face her men.

**Please, please review! More is on the way!**


	26. Chapter 26

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

'_Keep it together, keep your eyes forward'_ was the mantra that kept Grace from answering the stares she had received that morning at the assembly area. She had purposely been thirty seconds late so she would be there just in time and not have to answer any questions.

Once Peacock began the drill for their platoon, the looks thrown her way ranged from incredulous to perplexed, from annoyed to downright furious. Tab and George, Don, Lip and Joe had whispered her name to her as she marched by.

She kept her eyes forward, feeling nothing but burning shame racking her body. Everything inside was yelling at her to run, leave, get away from this wretched feeling…but obligation was obligation, and she couldn't abandon her men now….not when they were going to need her.

One way or another, she would get back what she had begun earning in 1940.

Once the drill concluded, Grace elegantly booked it to Officer's barracks.

She made it in time to see Harry and Lew standing close and talking outside; their stances stiff, their faces radiating tension.

Grace stopped before them, "I'm guessing you both know?"

Lew nodded, his features dark and set, "yeah, we know".

Harry shook his head, pointing at the open door of the Officer's barracks, "this isn't right, Nix".

"I know that, Harry", Lew started, "the man's the immediate higher officer…my hands are tied".

Grace shook her head, "I'm not looking for a way out of this – I don't want to piss off any more brass that I need to".

"No", Lew insisted, placing a hand on her shoulder, "there's something else…"

Her eyebrows shot up, "something else?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Fucking hell", Harry muttered, throwing his spent cigarette to the wet ground, "Buck wouldn't like this".

Grace furrowed her brow, confused, as Lew sighed, "_I _don't want this, _Dick_ doesn't, _Sink_ doesn't want this", he confirmed seriously as an orderly ran up to them.

"Lieutenant Grant?" She turned to the young man and he handed her a slip of paper before running off.

"Jesus, this is what I wanted to tell you", Lew uttered.

Furiously and agitated, Grace read the typed message:

**1****st**** Lieutenant Grace Grant: Barracks move orders**

**Lt. Grant is to be moved from Officer's Quarters to General Men's Barracks (Co. E) **

Looking up to the door, Grace let the paper fall to the dirt, walking briskly up the stairs and inside at once. She jogged to the staircase inside, barely hearing Lew and Harry following her through the sudden rush of rage flowing through her ears.

Numbly, she stood in her open doorway, watching as two orderlies clumsily packed her trunk. She stood to the side as they carried it past her.

Turning, she leaned up against the wall of the hallway, focusing on breathing.

Why wasn't she ever enough? Why must she constantly be put through these trials _off_ the battlefield? What more could she possibly prove? What the hell did they want from her?

She had given _everything_ and more to them. Her family, her existence…her chance at love. The only thing left was her soul, her life. _She should slit her wrists_, she thought darkly, in resentment, _go sit outside HQ and let them watch her bleed out…would that be giving them enough_?

Harry and Lew stood beside her, watching her, "did you know this was going to happen…all this?" she inquired.

Lew shook his head, inferring in a low tone, "no, neither did Dick. Lieutenant Dike kept all this on a need-to-know basis."

"Need-to-know?" Harry chuckled humorlessly.

"I am a commissioned officer with three combat jumps under my belt and a platoon leader for your main assault company…you and Dick _aren't_ need-to-know?" she hissed.

Lew shook his head, dejected, "Dike is your next-in-command. If he wants to move someone, technically he can do it. He found a loophole".

Oooooooooo

After bidding Harry and Lew goodbye, Grace made her way outside. Anger had surged through her this morning and had left her hollowed out and singed in its wake. Now all she felt was betrayal, sadness, and deep melancholy.

Her shoulders didn't shake; no tears streamed down her face. This type of crying wasn't the kind anyone could see. This was the worst kind, when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. This would leave one more scar on the damaged façade of her heart and soul.

Ooooooooo

Walking away from the mess hall, Ron was on his way to the officer's barracks when he saw Grace leaving the aid station, a medic band secured around her left bicep.

"Grace", he called out as he neared her. She turned to him, "where are you headed?"

"Hi", she said absently. "I uh…I'm headed to the Easy's barracks". She shoved her hands in her pockets, "I got orders to move there".

Ron felt his breath leave his lungs. He shook his head, glaring at the ground, "you've got to be kidding me".

"Nope", she affirmed softly. He brought his eyes up to hers; in their dark hazel depth, they held profound sadness, "I'm afraid not", she whispered.

He kept a tender gaze on her face. She appeared so vulnerable, he almost had to remind himself this was the same veteran paratrooper who had run out into a field full of fire with nothing but a bazooka.

She looked like she could let off some steam, get away from the protocol and military language and rules. Ron desired nothing more in that moment than to embrace her, but because he could not – he did the next best thing:

"Do you know where the north-east guard post is?" he hinted.

Grace watched his face curiously, "yes".

Ron smiled, "be there tonight at twenty-one-hundred".

"Are you giving me guard duty, Lieutenant Speirs?" she breathed. He sighed internally as the sign of a smile played on her lips.

"No, I'm not", he maintained as his eyes skipped over her pale features appreciatively, "I figured we could recreate old times…but tonight, it's just Ron".

Her heart constricted with the sweetest pleasure at his thoughtful offer, "I'll be there", she promised.

As he smiled at her answer, she took the moment to admire the way his eyes grew impossibly greener; she realized then _how much_ she had missed him.

They nodded to one another, parting ways as he called gently over his shoulder, "I'll bring the Lucky's".

She smiled to herself at the inside joke and recognized how he had just turned her day around with a few words, as she made her way to her new barracks.

Ooooooooo

"Go fish", George happily muttered as he threw down a full house.

"Wrong game, Luz", Don groaned beside Tab, chucking in his hand.

Tab's cards joined the pile on his bed, "new game?" he offered.

"What's going on?" Toye suddenly called loudly from across the room.

Don, George, Tab, and the rest of the men in the barracks looked to the door – two of Dike's orderlies had walked in carrying between them a large trunk. On one side a single bar was painted, signifying the trunk belonged to an officer; on the other side was the name: **G. GRANT**.

"It's like déjà-vu", Tab sighed, looking heavily to George and Don.

"What's Lieutenant Grant's stuff doing here?" Lieb demanded protectively.

"Barrack's transfer", the shorter of the two orderlies confirmed followed by sounds of exasperation from the men. "Where should we drop it?"

Lipton walked forward from the back of the room, "Cobb, move your stuff down the line".

"What?" Cobb began, "come on, Sarge."

"Listen to Lip, Cobb", Bull asserted.

"That's an order, Cobb…come on", Lip said firmly. Cobb sighed, throwing his trunk together.

George and Tab nodded to Lip then to each other – Cobb had been between them…they wanted Grace near to them. As her best friends in the company, Lip knew this was the best move.

Cobb dragged his trunk five beds down to the empty one at the end and the orderlies placed Grace's belongings at the foot of the bed in between George and Floyd.

When the orderlies walked out, Johnny turned to Bull and Lip, "how long is this shit gonna go on?"

"First she doesn't lead drill, now this?" Muck agreed, nodding to Penkala.

Lip sighed, "I wish I knew…but she'll be here soon enough, boys. Try not to hound her with questions".

"Fuckin' hell", George swore to Tab and Don as the murmur in the room picked up.

"Tell me about it…this 'aint right", Don said, shaking his head.

"Lieutenant", Johnny called in greeting. Tab looked back up again to the door.

Grace inclined her head, "Sergeant Martin". She paused and surveyed the silent barracks, "this feels familiar", she reminisced with a ghost of a smirk. Floyd felt his heart fall for her; how hard this must be for her.

"Your trunk is over there, Lieutenant", Cobb offered gently, pointing to George who was smiling at Grace.

"Come over to the party side of the barracks, Angel", George joked, winking, "we don't bite".

"Party side, huh?" Toye quipped.

"Party animals, the lot of 'em", Bull said, softly clapping Grace on the back as she passed.

Thankfully the men's chatter picked up again as she walked up to the bed; sitting down on it, she took a breath and looked up to George, Tab, and Don.

"What's the craic, Gracie-bird?" Don asked, his eyes raking her face.

She smirked and shrugged, "you're lookin' at it, Malark". Looking at the three of them and seeing pity and questions brimming in their faces, she dropped her eyes to Tab's bed, studying the discarded cards. She clenched her jaw, trying to dispel the tension in the room.

"Barrack's transfer?" Tab began cautiously. She kept her eyes down, casually nodding. Tab looked to George who was narrowing his eyes in concern, then to Don, regarding her worriedly. Tab glanced back to Grace; seeing the medic badge, he looked to her hip, "where's your side arm?"

Gently clearing her throat, Grace leaned forward and grabbed the cards, "I was relieved of it this morning", she said, beginning to shuffle the deck.

"What the fuck?" Don growled under his breath.

"He didn't take your bars away, did he?" George asked seriously.

Grace hollowly laughed, pausing her actions, "no". Her face clouded over a second later with controlled anger, "no, I got to keep those".

"So you're a Lieutenant medic now?" Don asked in amazement.

She nodded tensely, looking up at them, "looks like it".

Tab kept his eyes on her, "who's taking second platoon?"

"Peacock", she replied shortly. "You wanna play?" she began dealing cards, not allowing them time to respond. She held Tab's gaze, silently asking him to drop the interrogation.

Softly, she smiled as he nodded, smirking back empathetically at her, "yeah…yeah let's play".

Ooooooooo

That evening following dinner and a shower – now that she was back in the men's barracks, she had to shower at night – Grace quietly slipped away from the men and navigated her way to the guard tower where Ron had asked her to meet him.

'…_but tonight, it's just Ron'_

Ron.

Her heart got the best of her, picking up in speed at the thought off his name. This time, without the assumed and deliberate protocol separating them from and form of intimacy, Grace felt an excitable vulnerability. The feeling was nostalgic and bittersweet; it had the potential to become dangerous. It felt like…..dating; like she could very well be strolling down the street she lived on in New York, on her way to meet a young man.

The alarm bells that were going off inside her head began to fade away - she had seen too much, experienced too much in war now to know that life was entirely too short. Why be cautious now? To hell with it.

Ron leaned up against the guard post, flicking his lighter in his hand as a small smile played o his lips. The feeling of anticipation permeated the air around him. It had been a bold, if not impulsive move, to ask Grace here tonight – but he did not regret it for a second. He longed to get to know her, everything about her; this golden opportunity gave him the opening. With no rules to follow, his smile widened at the freedom he felt.

He thought back to D-Day, remembering how he had promised himself that he'd stay away from her, that he'd keep her at a distance and that it would be easiest. How wrong he was then….and how much more strongly he felt for her now.

"Ron".

He turned to the sound of his name and her soft voice, "evening Grace".

**Tell me what you think!**

**Updates soon…..and more Ron and Grace action.**


	27. Chapter 27

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**A monumental THANK YOU to **_**IceColdInAlex**_** and **_**Captain Ty**_** for your thoughtful reviews…they make my day and keep me motivated to write faster – THANK YOU.**

It was the third night in a row that she was meeting him at the guard post.

They had always been comfortable with one another; like magnets, they danced and moved around one another subconsciously. Whenever she was with him, an unexplainable heaviness settled in the air – it was natural, like gravity – and they responded to one another like the moon and the tides.

Nearing their meeting place, Grace smiled to herself: she was ten minutes early and he had beaten her, getting to the post first _again_. Hearing her approaching and soft laughter, Ron looked up, meeting her smile fully and her cheeks warmed under his carefree gaze. The world could have been burning down around them, and as long as he was looking at her, she would forever be reduced to a blush. It was nearly shaming, how the body could not lie about emotions - who could possibly slow their heart or stop a blush on command?

"Hey", he called softly in greeting, "I beat you here again".

She sighed playfully, "I told you last night, it's not a race".

He smiled, pushing himself away from the fence, "walk with me?"

She nodded and walked forward, studying his form. The seriousness of his character had in no way diminished, but there was a certain…freedom that had seeped into him and made his gait ever so buoyant. Before, he had been a mystery to her and every attempt to solve it resulted in the tiniest pain. She had tried to walk away, give up – but _he_ pursued her in thoughts, stronger each time. After spending time with him, the mystery had been easy to solve….he made her feel _home_.

Ron turned and slowly began walking, letting her catch up. When she appeared next to him, her face turned to his and he looked at her and softly smiled. He was astounded by the strength of her character. If he had had his platoon and weapon stripped by an incompetent ass like Dike, he would have already been arrested or Court Martialed. Yet, here she was – this woman who had more combat experience than him – was here beside _him_, with her deep, invincible, albeit melancholy, eyes on him. She always had that about her; that look of _otherness_, of eyes that see things much too far. He knew she put up a brilliant front, but inside she was still aching.

"What letter are we on tonight?" He wondered aloud. They had a game they played when walking together; they asked each other questions using every letter of the alphabet. One would ask the other, both would answer and see where it led them.

"I believe we left off at 'H'", she responded.

"'H'….ok shoot".

"Home…what's the first thing you're going to do when you get home?" she asked quietly when they found the walking path they had taken to wandering every night.

_Find you and take you out dancing, on a proper date_. "Unpack", he bluntly said. At her scoff, he laughed, "what are you going to do?"

_Apart from searching for you? _"Go to the library".

"You're kidding".

"No", she assured, "I love the library in New York".

"Book-worm", he teased.

"I miss it", she insisted, "have you ever smelled books?"

"When I feel asleep face-down in one, yes", he teased.

Grace laughed, looking to his profile, "where's a place that you felt the most comfortable?"

"Most comfortable", he pondered, then smiling, "my mother's kitchen."

"Why?" she asked, enthralled.

Ron shrugged, "I like to cook".

Grace smiled tenderly, "I didn't know that about you".

"Thanksgiving's my favorite holiday for a reason".

"Fair enough".

He fiddled with his lighter, "she lets me cook with her for every holiday…has since I could remember." Looking at her intensely, he nodded, "when we get home, I'm cooking for you".

"I'll hold you to that".

"What about libraries do you like?" he countered.

She regarded him thoughtfully, "I can trust words…you can stare at them and understand them and take as long as you want; they can't change halfway through a sentence like people".

"Dealt with that a lot back home?"

She shrugged, "the people I grew up with…let's just say I preferred baseball to debutants balls."

"What did your father think?"

"He let me hang up the big, ugly dress and put the baseball cap on", Grace laughed. "It was Lew's mother and sister who voiced their opinions to me. They only meant well…only were doing what they knew how to do considering I didn't have a mother to _guide_ me. I got really good at playing their game and trying to fit in, but I had to ask – how could I pretend to be someone else when I was already failing at being the person I was?"

Ron's steps faltered, "what do you mean?"

"They wanted to change me…and I got sick of feeling like I wasn't good enough", she shrugged. "Your turn….next letter is 'I'".

"Indulge".

"Oh, good one".

"What do you prefer to indulge in?" he winked at her.

She bit back a giggle, "hmm….other than a nice whiskey…Shakespeare. What about you?"

"Other than scotch…champagne", he smiled as she let out a laugh. "Shakespeare, huh?" she nodded, "recite something to me."

She turned to him, testing his gaze on her, "are you kidding?"

He shook his head, "nope."

"Recite something?"

He nodded, "yep".

"What…like a sonnet?"

"Anything".

She took a deep breath, nodding and laughing to herself, "ok, ok…" They had made their way to the bend in the path they took. She held out her hands, signaling him to stop. If it was Shakespeare he wanted, then he'd get it. She looked to his smug face and smirked, speaking in a breathy tone, "My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite". She smiled fully at his silence, "Shakespeare".

He cleared his throat, "Shakespeare", he repeated, biting his lip.

"You and I have something in common…" at his quirked brow, she grinned, "a fondness for champagne. I propose that before the end of the war…we need to share a bottle".

He nodded, "agreed….completely".

"'J'", she said quickly, "jade…jaded…do you think we're jaded?"

"I think anybody can be", he began, "sometimes I look back at what I've done, what we've all done, and I'm shocked. You don't notice how the days pass until nearly a lifetime has finished. Then it hits you – the thing you've been working for has already gone by or it was never there…it makes you question things. It's like I've been waiting on the wrong side of the road for a bus that was already full".

Thoughtfully, Grace peered forward to the moonlit path in front of them as they walked, "sometimes I wish this story was different".

"Story?"

"You know…story, our story, our lives. I wish it were more civilized. I wish it showed me in a better light, if not happier , then at least more…active – less hesitant, less distracted by trivia…I wish it were about love", speaking from the heart, she was honest and didn't hear his intake of breath as she continued, "or sudden realizations…I wish I felt more like I was participating in the Earth…traveling the world while _not_ in a paratrooper uniform, you know?"

Suddenly, Ron grabbed her hand, holding it, "I'll travel the world with you, Grace", he said seriously.

Grace swallowed thickly, laughing breathily at his bold actions, "you will?"

"You'll have to wait until the entire world rebuilds itself after the war is over…but we'll see it", he said bluntly. At that moment, his tone and bold actions and statement struck her as so funny; she began laughing. She laughed so hard, tears forming in her eyes. Ron didn't know why she thought his lame joke was so funny, but he didn't care. Looking at her smiling face, he swore to God above he'd do anything in the world to keep this woman happy. He registered his hands was still holding hers as her laugh tapered off. "Have you ever laughed so hard that no one in the world could hurt you…no matter what they tried to do?"

She giggled, her hand clutching his tighter unconsciously, "yes…but mostly when I'm with you". He laughed openly and Grace took the moment to appreciate his face, smiling and without tension, he was captivatingly handsome. Feeling his hand tighten around hers, she looked down, not knowing until now he was still holding hers. Ron, sensing her realization, cleared his throat and dropped her hand. Her heart lurching at the loss of warmth, Grace glanced at Ron, his shoulders stiff. He looked to her suddenly and smiled, she smiled back.

"So you're all moved in?" he had to ask.

Nodding, she shrugged, "yep", she smirked, "it almost feels like Toccoa". He laughed lightly and she gestured in front of her, "I almost expected Sobel to show up that first night…tell us h's takin' over for Sink". She turned to him, "that's the only way this could get any worse".

He smirked with her, "worse, huh?"

She quirked an eyebrow, "well, _this_ is a nice break from the norm", she playfully nudged him with her shoulder, "and I've won a few hands of poker, but I think the boys let me win…I'm terrible at poker".

Ron frowned at her, "are you?...I would have guessed the opposite".

"Oh Jesus, yeah, I'm awful. Unless I'm drunk – which is weird because it should be the opposite", eyeing his relaxed posture, she got bold, testing him, "either way, I avoid strip-poker; being the only girl around, no good could come from that".

Looking at her incredulously but with amusement, Ron asked, "none of the men have suggested that, have they?"

She laughed, glad he was playing along, "no…not yet".

They laughed together as he looked at her in mock seriousness, "if they do suggest such a thing – decline and then report straight to me".

Smirking, Grace cocked her head, "and why is that?"

Ron shrugged confidently, "strip-poker is strictly a two-person game…and I am pretty dan good at poker".

The implication and the deep tenor of his voice nearly sent shock waves through Grace's core. Her cheeks went pink as his knuckles grazed hers. She looked at him daringly, taking pleasure in the anticipation swirling in his eyes. Throwing caution to the wind, she reached forward and gently grabbed his hand; she held her breath as he smiled softly and curled his fingers around hers. "I will most definitely remember that".

Ooooooooo

Roughly a few hours later, Grace snuck back to barracks. Despite the cool weather, she felt warm all over. They had spoken of nearly everything, stopping at the letter 'L' in their game.

The clock was past midnight when Grace carefully opened the door to the barracks and tip-toed to her bed. She smirked, here she was – the ranking Lieutenant – and she was sneaking into her own barracks; she doubted Ron was sneaking into his room. Sneaking in reminded her of sneaking in past curfew with Chuck and Lew…except this time it was in a room full of paratroopers – not just her father.

Looking over to George and Tab's still forms, she held her breath as she silently kicked off her jump boots. After pushing off her field jacket, she climbed into bed.

"You are late getting into bed, young lady", George whispered.

"Tsk, tsk", Tab quietly laughed.

Grace smirked, wiggling off her pants under her covers and tossing them to the floor, "aw…did you boys wait up for me?"

"Where'd you go Angel?" Tab asked.

"You finally go teach Foxhole Normal a lesson?" George said seriously.

Sniggering, Grace shook her head, "don't worry about it".

"Come on", George whined.

"Lieutenant Medic duties…it's top secret", she affirmed.

"Fine…be that way", Tab teased.

**More to come this weekend! Please review!**


	28. Chapter 28

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**To Captain Ty, IceColdInAlex, and Lizzie1708 – THANK YOU SO, SO, SO MUCH for your reviews! This one is for you guys.**

**Note: This chapter earns it rating. Don't get too excited (ahem…) but I believe it's entirely plausible and if **_**I**_** were the only woman and in the military… it would've happened long before this.**

Grace had spent the morning and the better part of the day down at the aid station on base. After breakfast, she tended to the men visiting on sick-call and dolling out medication to those who weren't faking it to evade morning drills. She opted to skip lunch in favor of re-cataloguing the aid-kits and had been at it for a few hours; the sun would be going down soon. Dike had been on the prowl before his weekend leave and Grace wanted to avoid him.

If she was being honest with herself, she could handle Dike…she'd been through Sobel, hadn't she? What she was avoiding was the growing feeling of crushing inadequacy and the overwhelming urge to commit murder every time Peacock made a mistake in drills and practice-maneuvers. Bureaucracy had symbolically silenced her…and she knew if she stuck around for more than a couple hours out of the day they would have no choice but call the MP's, for she would no longer be able to control her anger.

Sitting on the ground of the storage room, she grimaced as she rolled her stiff shoulders. Behind her, the door squeaked open.

"Gene, remind me to steal a couple aspirin before I leave today", she announced.

"Do you want me to grab some for you now?" Lew's voice answered. She turned around to the door and smiled at him, "hi Gracie".

"Hey Lew", she scooted around to face him and held her hands out, "help me up?"

"You got it", he took her hands and pulled her up.

"You bored or did you come to see me for a reason?"

Lew smiled, "it's a pretty damn good reason, but for some reason I feel like I'm going to have to talk you into it".

"Uh-oh", she dusted her hands off on her pants, "am I getting reassigned to the mail room?"

"Jesus, when did you get this cynical?" he teased.

"Sorry, bad joke – okay, what's up?"

"Forty-eight hour pass to the City of Light", he informed, "it's got your name on it".

"Paris", she murmured. Lew nodded, smiling smugly. "Lew…I…I hope you didn't have to call in any favors on this".

"Nope, just abused my natural charm to within an inch of its life", he proclaimed, "so…is that a yes?" His dark eyes tensely held hers as she bit her lip, "it's unofficial, and all the upper brass – including Dike – are off base for the weekend…plus if anyone can use a break it's you Gracie-girl".

"If anyone can use a break it's Dick Winters", Grace asserted.

Lew smirked, "I should have put money on this with Harry – I _knew_ you wouldn't go".

Grace scoffed, "I can't leave the guys…plus what the hell would _I_ do in Paris?" She shook her head, laughing, "would _you_ want to go to _Paris_ alone?"

Lew bit his lip, "…well _I_ am going to Aldbourne…but that is neither here nor there." Grace frowned and he leaned forward and cupped her face, "are you denying a forty-eight hour pass to Paris?"

Sighing reluctantly, Grace held his gaze. Paris? Alone? She'd drive herself crazy. There was nothing in Paris for her that would do her good….her nightly meetings with Ron were better than forty-eight hours in Paris, "give it to Dick…he needs to get away from that desk of his".

Lew sighed and put his hands on his hips, "I can't say you're wrong there. But if you need something – time off, a drink….you have got to let me know". Grace shook her head about to brush off his offer, but he continued, "I'm serious, Grace."

She nodded, "will do, Cap…and thank you for the offer".

Lew winked, "you bet, Angel. I'll see you in forty-eight hours then".

"Be safe", she said. He smiled, nodded and walked out the door. Grace knew he was not just going to go to Aldbourne and sit in a pub alone, wanting some rest and relaxation…he was going for a woman. She knew him; she knew that look of his. Grace never liked Lew's wife even when they were going out…but it disappointed her that this man who she loved like a brother could toss away his marriage like that.

Closing the aid station door behind her and shoving her hands in her pockets, she kicked at a rock walking out onto base.

When Lew had asked Cathy to marry him, Grace had secretly been devastated. She shook her head at the memory, kicking the rock off the path. She no longer harbored feelings for Lewis, and she obviously didn't know the working mechanics of his marriage to Cathy…but as a principle, she had to ask: did two people have the capacity to stay in love? Her heart sank pessimistically. In this world at war, where she had seen humankind at its most desperate, would she retain the ability to love fully? She loved Ron, she knew she did – even if she was too cowardly to speak it aloud to him – had she seen too much to believe in the purity of love after all things?

To live, to keep living…she had to believe she could. There was nothing else in her existence; nothing waiting for her at home…she'd continue to believe in love until the universe proved her wrong.

Sighing, she looked up to the twilight sky while on her way to the showers. Her eye caught on the first star of the night and she smiled softly; _starlight, star-bright, first star I see tonight – wish I may, wish I might, grant this wish I wish tonight…_

"What are you looking at?"

She smiled hearing his voice, "Hi Ron". He came to a stop beside her, looking up as well, "first star of the night", she pointed.

"Better make a wish then", he huskily murmured beside her, his face upturned but very near to hers.

She turned her face towards his after a brief pause, "meet me at the guard post tonight", she whispered.

His eyes met hers, "of course".

"Twenty-one hundred", she requested as she tried to name the color of green gazing back at her.

"I'll be there", he promised.

"Until then, Lieutenant", she smiled softly, walking away to the showers.

Oooooooooo

Closing her eyes to the inviting warmth of the shower, Grace sighed and relaxed her shoulders immediately. The sudden relaxation must have triggered something in her brain….because she was completely unprepared as she unexpectedly envisioned Ron there with her… naked and warm, standing up against her backside, his hands…

Grace's eyes snapped open…what the hell?

She obviously hadn't indulged her imagination in quite some time…that image had been _vivid_.

Not that it was unwanted, but allowing thoughts of that nature would take her nowhere…it would not be as good as the real thing….though it was a nice thought…she _was_ alone…she could…

No. Stop. Please, don't be ridiculous.

_The boys probably do it all the time._

Shut up.

_You haven't had privacy to do it since Toccoa; when will you have this chance again? When the war is over?_

God damnit.

_Close your eyes….no one is watching._

Her eyes slid closed and Grace turned towards the water and focused on the hot water tapping her back. Leaning her forehead against the cool tile, she unconsciously bit her lip as the images once again flooded her mind.

A sigh slipped out, this one triggered by the greenness and intensity of his eyes on hers; she had always preferred the color green. The image of his smile was next, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his beautiful lips curved. He rarely smiled around base and the other men…her heart fluttered knowing _she_ could illicit such a smirk from him.

_Ronald….Ron_. She enjoyed the way his name tumbled about her mind. In the beginning, in Toccoa, she seldom spoke it aloud, but now that they were - dare she say it – growing closer, she was able to use it every day.

"Ron", she whispered; it came out as a sigh, breathy as it bounced off the surrounding tiles.

Her sigh was accompanied by the image of him stepping behind her, his chest pressing to her back. Grace's chin dropped to her chest as she imagined him placing hot kisses between her shoulder blades. He continued the white-hot trail up and onto her neck; her skin broke out in goosebumps.

A small mewl escaped her as she ran her hand up from her hip to her breast. She imagined a larger, stronger hand in its place as a hot pool formed in the pit of her stomach.

He pulled her closer to him as both hands swirled around and ghosted over her breasts gently. His right hand began a descent down her stomach, going further down and Grace brought her face up, her nose touching the tile, imagining his husky breath in her ear.

A deep moan echoed in her head as his hand dipped between her thighs. She bit back a choked sob as his long fingers stroked her tenderly; she circled her hips, reaching for more contact. Behind her, his firm body pressed up against her, a stubbled chin scratched against her shoulder, and a pair of hot lips caressed her ear.

The pressure increased as his fingers moved against her quicker. Shame and modesty died as she gasped and muffled the sound of his name spilling from her lips. A low growl filled her head at her sigh as his capable fingers coaxed her to the edge.

_"Let me hear you"_, a raspy voice husked in her ear.

Her body tensed as she heard Ron's voice so clearly in her mind. It gave her the push she needed as she squeezed her eyes shut and whispered his name, just an echo of the scream in her mind; warm pleasure came in waves as she caught her breath.

As her pulse slowed and she slowly began showering again, she smirked to herself, congratulating her boldness and bashfully regretting nothing.

Oooooooo

Since her little 'meetings' began with Ron, Grace had begun to attempt to make herself look like a girl. All she had was a little, pathetic cosmetic bag of makeup that she swiped from a blown-out house in Holland; some powder, light lipstick, and a small tube of mascara.

After drying off and dressing, Grace stood at one of the small mirrors above the line of sinks in the bathroom. Setting her tiny makeup bag onto the little ledge under the mirror, she took a moment to acknowledge the glaring irony.

Here she was – a woman in BDU pants and her PT shirt, her trousers bloused, her shoulder-length hair curling at the ends…excited to meet a man tonight. She's a female Lieutenant in France, getting herself ready for a pseudo-non-date while surrounded by urinals.

When had she gotten used to it? Always being encompassed by men's things; she had tailored to it so long now, it came as second nature…her new normal.

Where the boys had it simple that they could pee anywhere…at least she didn't have to shave her face every day. She adapted to men's way of life so well, she wondered if they even saw a woman before them anymore.

Gazing passively at herself in the mirror, she decided her skin still looked soft and unblemished even if she did have light purple smudges under her eyes. Her cheeks and lips were too pale naturally; her dark eyes, although expressive, appeared dull to her; and her hair looked lifeless without curlers. What the hell did Ron see in her, if anything?

Sighing heavily, Grace dropped her eyes to her short, unmanicured nails. Swallowing the rising feeling of inadequacy once again, she opened her makeup bag and began filling in the holes of her waning femininity; her stolen makeup as the only weapons to aid her.

Oooooooo

Casually throwing her field jacket on, Grace made her way back to barracks to kill the hours before she was to meet Ron.

The base had an official night off – most, if not all, the upper brass were out of town and most of the men had found their way into the local town, leaving the base relatively quiet. So Grace was surprised to hear muffled music and men's voices outside her barracks.

Stepping inside, Grace saw the room mostly empty apart from her core group of Toccoa men. She grinned seeing a card game going on, American music blaring through a stolen radio, and a makeshift bar balanced on Perconte's trunk.

"Hi ho silver!" Grace called over the music; the group turned to the door.

"There she is!" George beamed, smiling at her.

"Gracie!" Don exclaimed with Tab.

"Our dancing partner finally arrived!" Lieb announced, laughing with Toye.

"What are you drinking, Lieutenant?" Perco asked, picking up a glass that had obviously been lifted from the mess hall.

"Hey! Rule, Perco! We're not in the army tonight", Tab corrected bluntly.

"The lady will have a whiskey", Bill stood up.

"Bill!" Grace sang.

He sauntered forward, "how ya doin', Angel?"

"Grand now that you're here", she laughed as he pulled her in for a hug.

"You hear that fellas?" he called.

"How's the leg?" she pulled back, looking him over.

"He scoffed, "I snuck outta there, they were only keeping me around for my good looks".

"Is that right?" Toye teased, handing Grace her whiskey.

"You hear anything from Buck?" she asked Bill quietly.

He shook his head, "no…Moose sends his regards". He looked her over, "first, I see Winters behind a desk…and now you're back with us in the barracks…what's the world coming to, huh?"

"No idea, Bill, but I'm sure glad you're back", she responded.

Bill leaned in, throwing an arm over her shoulder as he walked with her to her bunk to toss her stuff down, "I heard…Foxhole Norman, huh?"

Grace sighed and took a drink, "Jesus…don't get me started".

"No", George voiced, hearing them, "no, fuck that….let's _get_ started".

Grace looked to a bemused Tab, then back to George, "what are you on about?"

He gestured to Tab, "like Floyd said…tonight, we're not in the Army".

"We made a rule", Don explained, "that tonight there's no rank, no rules".

"No nothin'", Lieb winked.

George nodded, "everyone is going to say one thing that pisses them off then everyone takes a drink".

Toye grinned, "I'm in".

Perco nodded, "so am I".

Bill nudged Grace and she shrugged, "let's do this".

She plopped beside Tab as George started, holding up his drink, "I hate the way Foxhole Norman yawns all the damn time". He hoisted his glass, "take a drink".

Everyone followed suit as Don stood up, "I hate how we gotta repeat the same damn drills over and over…and for what? It's pointless".

"Take a drink!" George ordered; everyone did.

Lieb held his glass up, "I fucking hate that I can never find that S.O.B. when I need him".

"Take a drink!"

Toye spoke up, "what about the replacements? We get shipped out again…they'll know how to march in a circle but won't know shit about fighting".

"Here, here", Don agreed.

"Take a drink!"

"Supplies!" Perco yelled, "I haven't seen an ammo or supply dump in ages…how are we gonna fight anybody?"

"Take a drink!"

Grace felt the familiar warmth of whiskey pool in her stomach as Tab stood up next to her, "where the hell are our passes to Paris?" The men yelled in approval, "I've been saving for it and we need time off, damnit!"

"Take a drink, damnit!"

The men's eyes went to Grace as she stood up, raising her glass, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, "I want my fucking gun back!"

"Take a drink!" they all yelled, downing the rest of their glasses.

Bill topped off Grace's glass, then his own and passed it to George, "I want a dame".

"That's not an army problem, Guarnere", Perco stated.

"I'm makin' it one!" Bill declared, "Don't let Gracie fool you…the field nurse are _not_ gorgeous like her. I've been deprived….it was torture!"

"Take a drink!" Lieb yelled, filling up their glasses after they all took a shot.

"You want a dame, huh?" Tab chuckled, "romance?"

"Yeah…fellas, we gotta find this place called Lulu's", Bill said.

"Lulu's?" George asked.

"Yeah – Lulu's".

Toye shook his head, "you'll only find one thing there…sex".

"That's not romance", Grace insisted.

"It can be romantic", Perco suggested.

Grace shook her head, "not with someone you don't know".

"What?" Bill laughed.

Grace laughed incredulously and took a sip, "we mistake _sex_ for _romance_. Guys are taught that…pushing a girl up against a wall is romantic. Sex is easy!"

"Is it now?" George asked sarcastically, clinking his glass with Tab's.

"Yes", she replied, "you can do it by yourself", her cheeks grew warm, her thoughts catapulting to her shower and the timing of this conversation.

Don leaned forward, "are you speaking from experience?"

Feeling a surge of whiskey-induced confidence, Grace held his gaze, a small smirk on her lips.

"Holy shit", Lieb groaned under his breath.

Don's face grew red as he gazed at her, "you're not denying it".

Grace smiled and looked at Bill and Toye who's jaws were slack, "romance is when that someone walks into a room and they take your breath away…it's when two people are walking next to one another and suddenly they're holding hands without knowing who grabbed who first".

George grinned, "now _that_ sounds like it's from experience". He leaned towards her, loudly clinking her glass, "eh, eh, Gracie?"

The boys chuckled teasingly as Grace rolled her eyes, "I know…I'm a sap deep down".

"We love you anyway", Tab winked.

"Turn up the music, Perco!" Lieb called as Frank obliged.

Grace gasped as 'Moonlight Serenade' crooned through the barracks, "I love this song", she breathed.

Don lunged forward as all the men asked at once. He grabbed her hand, "we're dancing…ya snooze, ya lose, fellas".

All the whiskey caught up to her as Don spun her around and yanked her to his chest. He held her tightly as she laughed and gripped around his shoulders, "that whiskey went straight to my head".

Don laughed as they swayed, "it's about time you caught up…all of us have been drinking for hours".

Grace leaned back so she was nose-to-nose with him, "have you? It's a miracle you're able to dance this well, then".

"We've achieved Irish accent-status, boys!" he called over his shoulder and all the guys cheered and clinked their glasses. Off of her amused smirk he explained, "we promised we'd all drink with you until you got your accent…we like it".

"So are you done partying now?" she laughed.

"Oh hell no! We've just begun!"

"Ok good, this song is too pretty to stop now", she affirmed.

Don smirked and pecked her on the cheek, "_you're_ pretty".

Grace giggled, "you're drunk".

He turned them around to the music, nodding, "I'm drunk…and you're beautiful. And tomorrow morning I'll be sober…but you'll still be beautiful".

She smiled meaningfully at him, "I think I'm drunk too…you're sweet, Don", she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, the whiskey making her feel warm inside.

She laughed aloud again as he spun her around, "Sparky is one lucky man!" Don yelled.

"Cheers to that, Malark", Lieb called, hoisting his glass and winking at Grace.

Grace sniggered at the name as the song ended, "Sparrrrky". She looked up to the clock on the wall….she had an hour and a half until she was to meet him.

"We can't all be as lucky as ol' Sparky", Toye drawled as Grace and Don walked back to the men and Grace picked up her drink.

"Is that who you're seeing at night?" Floyd asked, his brow furrowed.

He had caught Grace off guard as she swallowed her drink and remained silent.

George hooted and laughed, "you are!"

"Son of a bitch", Perco muttered, laughing.

"What's goin' on?" Bill asked, pouring himself and Don another.

"Gracie here has been leaving the barracks at night and sneaking back in late", Toye explained, and Grace's mouth snapped open – _how did they know_?

"Yeah, we know…we know you too well, you can't hide anything from us any more", Lieb said.

"She's obviously been out with Sparky", George nodded, clearly proud he'd figured it out.

"Is that right?" Bill said.

Grace put a hand on her hip as she elegantly threw back her glass. Leaning forward, she placed her glass on Perco's trunk next to where George was sitting. She put her lips to his ear and spoke in a husky breath, "you're just jealous, Mr. Luz".

The boys drunkenly hollered as George stood up, only an inch or two taller than her; she leaned in close as he spoke, "is that what you think, Miss Grant?"

She nodded and grinned as Glenn Miller's 'In the Mood' blared through the speakers, "I _do_ think". She knew they had all passed the drinking point where everything was funny. She bit her lip as his eyes narrowed playfully at her, "I know about the pin-up magazine".

"What?!" Lieb laughed.

"You holdin' out on us, Luz?" Floyd leered.

"Gracie…" George began.

"Nope…I know all about 'Busty Betty Brunette'", she moaned in fake ecstasy, as she shrugged her shoulders mischievously and threw her head back, one hand on her hip.

"I'm gonna get you, Gracie", George started towards her. Grace took a step back and as George lunged to her, she turned and ran across the barracks. The boys began yelling and laughing as she shrieked as George lunged again.

"You're gonna get me, huh?!" She yelled.

"Oh…don't tease me, Gracie!" he called back.

"Come get me, Georgie!" She taunted. "Ah!" she ran down the path between the beds and George tackled her on Tab's bed, both of them laughing. "Damnit, you got me", she said as he rolled off her, grinning.

"First time for everything", he smirked and handed her full glass back to her.

"I propose a toast!" Grace said, getting up. The men turned to her, all their cheeks flushed from alcohol, "there's a conventional saying: 'Live each day as if it's your last'….but who has the energy for that? It's just not practical", the men laughed good-naturedly around her. She smiled to all of their faces, "better by far to try and be good and courageous and bold and to make a difference, you know…not change the whole world, but the bit around you."

"Exactly", Perco said.

"Hey, she's in the middle of her toast", Toye said.

"No, it's alright…everybody add to it", Grace said, nodding to Frank.

Perco held up his glass, "go out there with your passion…and work hard at something".

"Change lives through art…or books", Lieb added.

"Cherish your friends and stay true to your principles", Bill declared.

"Live…fully and well", Toye noted.

"Realize that happiness is a choice", Don mused.

"Experience new things", Floyd said thoughtfully.

"Experience as many _first things_ as you can", George smiled.

Grace smiled back and held up her glass, "love and be loved, if you ever get the chance".

"Take a drink!" They all yelled together.

Ooooooooo

An hour and a half later, the boys were still drinking and had taken to dancing with one another, which was a good development because it was time for Grace to sneak out. She definitely had 'too much'…but she wasn't _drunk_ per se, she felt emboldened.

She grabbed her jacket and slipped it on, glancing at the men. Grabbing Chuck's old flask, she filled it with a choice scotch and put it in her pocket.

"Leaving us already?" Floyd snuck up behind her.

Grace turned to him, hiding a smirk, "what if I am?"

He smirked back, "be safe…we'll wait up for you".

Grace winked, and jogged out, her heart pounding in excitement.

Ooooooooo

She bit back a laugh as she saw him, waiting at the post. She was fifteen minutes early this time.

"You beat me again", she observed, walking up to him. "I should lie about the time from now on".

"I thought you said it wasn't a race", he teased, smiling at her. Grace's heart pounded even harder and she was reminded of her deed in the shower for the second time this evening.

She decided she wasn't embarrassed about what she'd done…how could she blame herself…_look_ at him. "I have something for you", she announced.

"He quirked his brow, "really?"

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the flask, "happy early-Christmas", she joked.

Ron held her gaze for a moment. Her face appeared flushed, her gait bouncy and she was quick to smile tonight….she had been up to something. He looked down to the flask in her outstretched hand. "a drink?"

"Yes", she answered simply. "I realized that we've never shared a drink…I had to fix that".

He unscrewed the lid and smelled, "Mmm..scotch; it's like you know me". He smirked at her satisfied grin, "ladies first".

She was quick to blush too as she gently took the flask, "slainte, Mr. Speirs".

Ron laughed as she handed the flask back, "_Mr. Speirs_?" He took a healthy swig as she laughed melodically.

"The boys had a bit of a shindig at our barracks…they decided one rule, that we weren't 'in the army' for the night", she explained, hoping she didn't come across as a drunken loon.

"_That's _why I hear your accent…Good scotch", he remarked, "and tonight's as good a night to that if any".

"Yeah…we had a few", she laughed. "That reminds me…how come you're here", she asked and he frowned, "no…sorry, I mean…all the other officers are off-base. I guess I'm surprised you didn't want to leave too".

Ron swallowed another swig and a laugh at her stammering. He casually shrugged and chanced a heavy comment, hoping her time and drinks with her men would make her miss it, "there's nothing out there I want to see…everything I need is here". He turned his eyes on her and she stared at him, biting her lip. He took the opportunity to openly admire her rosy cheeks and ivory skin…her openness, obviously influenced by 'a few' drinks was absolutely endearing.

Grace smiled to herself, had he really just said that? It always happened like that…one of them would say something daring and that was as far as they'd go – conversation would get a little 'risky' and they'd hit a wall and refuse to jump it together. She wondered if they ever would…was this just mindless and easy flirting? "'L'", she announced.

"Yes, we are at the letter 'L'", he nodded passing the flask to her. He smirked, amused yet impressed as she took a swift swig and handed it back, he put it back to his lips, tasting her sweetness on the rim as he took another drink.

"Have you ever been in love?" Astounded at herself, Grace kept up her bravado taking advantage of the buoyancy she felt. Ron was astonished. He swallowed the mouthful of scotch easily, buying himself time…but his heart constricted when her rosy face paled in reaction to his silence. Grace wondered why he didn't respond…she gave it a second, but when he remained quiet, she turned her face forward and shrugged, "I love you", she breathed.

Ron's heart stopped altogether, "..what?"

"Why is that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another…yet it's still the one thing we long to hear?"

It was then Ron realized she was prompting a question, not confessing…and his heart painfully stuttered back to life, "yes…I, uh suppose it sounds different coming from a family member or friend...", he looked to her, walking quietly beside him, her angelic face thoughtful in the moonlight, "but when spoken by someone you dream about…it makes your breath catch in your chest".

Grace slowed her steps long enough to study his handsome face. He was looking at her intently and she smiled, her heart heavy; and she allowed herself to imagine him whispering those three words to her, her heart melted at the thought and she nodded, "I think you're right". At that moment, she felt supreme yet lovely sadness at the thought of him in love with someone else. She immersed herself in it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its subtle nuances. The warmness of the whiskey did not dilute it; she was a prism through which sadness could be divided into an infinite spectrum. "People fall in love all the time…and it's not always with the right people and it's not always reciprocated".

Ron didn't know what to say…the tenor that tinged her voice struck a chord deep in his heart. He couldn't say it aloud…he didn't know how to verbalize…did she not know that she had worked her way easily into every facet of his existence…even into his dreams, where he missed her even in sleep. "I've never said that to anyone".

They slowed and stopped at the edge of base, back near the guard post. Grace turned to him, "say what?" She knew what he meant…but she'd be damned if she was going to walk away without the memory of _his_ voice saying _those_ words.

"I love you", he whispered and Grace's stomach clenched, "I've never said that to anyone…apart from my mother".

Grace smiled and shrugged nonchalantly at him, "you'll say it to someone special someday", she offered lamely…she'd put herself in this situation with her boldness. She turned to base, "should we call it a night?"

Ron gazed at her, wishing things were different…wishing they could stop dancing around the subject. "Would you like your flask back?"

She smiled sweetly at him, "no…keep it on you until we meet again".

He nodded and held it out, "one more sip?"

She laughed lightly, "sure". He handed it to her and she took a small swig, she handed it back as he took a final sip, screwed the lid back on, and slipped it in his pocket.

They both stood still, knowing they basically said 'goodnight' but neither really wanted to leave one another.

"Grace", Ron whispered and stepped closer to her, within an inch of her.

"Yes?" She whispered back, her body tingling from his proximity and warmth.

Ron searched her eyes lazily, indulging himself. He brought a hand up slowly and lightly stroked her face. He heard her breath hitch as he touched her soft skin with the back of his knuckles and the last of his resolve snapped when her eyes darkened and her pink tongue darted out over her bottom lip. Cupping her face, Ron pulled her body to his with his other hand wrapped around her waist. He met her lips gently yet hungrily as he breathed in her scent that swirled around him.

Grace felt him sigh as her fingers slid into his dark hair and she hugged him to her, kissing him deeply. They broke apart for a brief moment to catch their breath, but they did not pull away from one another. Their noses touching, they smiled softly at one another and Ron leaned in again, kissing her with a light moan escaping him. Grace responded by sighing into his mouth and she felt him smile against her lips.

Ron stroked his fingers down her cheek, kissing her temple and pulling away, "goodnight, Miss Grant."

Grace smiled and kissed his cheek then pulled away as well, "goodnight, Mr. Speirs."

**Please, please review!**


	29. Chapter 29

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Thank you to everyone who's recently been 'following' my story…it truly keeps me going. Keep reading and reviewing! It's going to get really good.**

December 1944

"Gracie!"

Grace turned towards George's voice, looking away from the purple mountains, the sun having just tucked itself away for the day. "What's the craic, George?"

He waggled his eyebrows, stopping next to her and swiping the lit cigarette from her mouth. "Movie showing again in the mess hall", he drawled in his best John Wayne impersonation.

"Oh God, no…not that flick again, I can't watch that one more time", she shook her head.

He laughed and smirked in response, flashing his dimples as he took a drag, "come on, I'll make it worth your while".

She grinned, "oh, I can think of _so_ many ways to hold that against you".

Smirking and grabbing her hand, George led them both through the darkened base towards the hall, "come on, girlie".

Complying without argument, Grace laughed at his exuberance, "you're so excited about this, I'm actually gonna feel bad when I sneak out after twenty minutes".

The hall was dark when George and Grace walked in. The flickering of the projector and the screen lit up the faces of the audience. George pulled Grace to the left, dragging her down a row and taking a seat behind Lip and Toye who looked to be fully absorbed in the film.

"Hey Gracie, Luz, how's it hangin'?" Grace turned around to Muck and Perconte behind them.

"You seen this as much as we have?" Frank asked, gesturing to John Wayne in his navy uniform on-screen.

"Too many to count, Perco – I'm here on account of this one", Grace nudged George who winked at her and pulled her forward.

"You're gonna miss it…watch", George pointed to the screen as he mimicked The Duke's stiff movements in his chair. "Look at me...I'm John Wayne…" Grace bit back a peel of laughter as George smirked and threw an arm behind her chair, "the costume department set me up with these great navy whites…what do ya think?"

Toye turned around, obviously pissed, "Luz, shut up".

Lip turned around too, "I'm tryin' to watch this".

Grace bit the inside of her cheek from laughing at George's unaffected posture, his arm still around her chair, "I've seen this movie thirteen times".

"Well I haven't so shut up", Toye rasped over his shoulder.

"Watch the movie, it's fine", George nonchalantly said as they turned back around to the screen.

Grace shook her head as George grinned at her, obviously proud of himself, "you're unbelievable", she whispered.

"Yeah? Well you know that's why you love me", he whispered huskily back.

"Skip!" Don's voice hollered from the doorway, running to Muck and Frank behind Grace and George.

"Shut up!" Lip hissed again.

"Come on!" George whined back.

Grace turned to look what Don was on about when she spotted Buck.

He was seated across the aisle on the other side of the projector. Smiling and about to stand and go to him, she stilled, her smile falling as she took in his face and the set of his shoulders.

Staring, transfixed at the movie screen, his posture curled into himself, Grace felt her heart slow. She had witnessed that look before…she knew it well. She had seen it in her own reflection after her father's death…then after Chuck's…when the hospital had eventually gotten to her and she had to leave.

Squeezing George's leg and getting his attention, she nodded over to Buck's position. George took one look and nodded to her. She stood up and walked around the back of the hall to get to Compton. Slowly approaching down the row, she gently sat beside him, making sure not to startle him.

Grace bit back the bubbling fear at his stony silence and unresponsive expression, "Buck", she whispered.

As if she'd yelled his name into his ear, he turned to her with wide eyes, "Gracie", he croaked as she smiled at his voice, "you're still here".

After a perplexed beat, she nodded, "of course I'm still here". She kept her face neutral and caring as her eyes searched his. His electric blue gaze remained on her as he silently reached out and took her hand, holding it tightly and pulling it into his lap. She moved closer for him, scooting beside him with their shoulders pressed together. He had pulled her arm so close, she was halfway off her chair next to him.

She remained silent as well, gently squeezing his hand, knowing easy words would not be enough. Buck was a big man; he had always dwarfed Grace in body and personality…but in this moment, she felt like a giant compared to him.

"Evening Grace", Dick spoke, appearing behind her and Buck.

Grace turned as much as she could with Buck's hold on her arm, "Evening Dick…how was Paris?" she smiled warmly at him as her other hand went on top of Buck's, making small circles on the back of his hand, his posture relaxing slightly.

Dick smiled, "it was relaxing, thank you". His blue eyes skipped to Buck and looked back at Grace looking at her questionably. Grace looked away, studying Buck's profile. She felt him squeeze her hands as she looked back to Dick, a tight grimace on her face. Dick nodded and spoke lowly to Buck, "hey Buck…how are you feeling? Your wounds heal?...all four of them?" Glancing back at Buck following his silence, she clenched her jaw seeing his face turned down and focused on their clasped hands entwined on his lap. "You seen this before?" Dick tried again, gentler.

"Buck", Grace spoke, her voice low – wishing desperately that she could snap him out of the trance he was in.

Buck flinched slightly, turning to Dick, "uh, hi…"

"Is it any good?" Dick asked.

"Uh…yeah…it's a real corker", Buck replied as Grace took back one of her hands and turned in her seat to face Dick. Dick studied Buck cautiously at his forced and distracted response. Buck turned back to the screen at the loss of one of Grace's hands; he held on tight to the nearest one, looking frustrated and lost towards the movie screen. Behind him, Dick looked worriedly at Grace, she held his gaze, equally concerned.

From across the aisle, Grace heard George's voice, "GOT….UH…..PENNY".

On-screen, Marlene Dietrich spoke, "got a penny?" George chuckled at her line.

Boom. Suddenly the doors kicked open as Battalion members stormed in the room. Immediately, the men began to moan at the sudden intrusion.

"Lights", someone barked. Dick and Grace shared a knowing look and beside her Buck flinched at the yell.

"Quiet!" a technical sergeant yelled as he got on the make-shift stage and turned to the company, "I said quiet!" The room quieted down and the projector flipped off, "elements of the first and sixth S.S. Panzer divisions have broken through into the Ardennes Forest. Now they've overrun the twenty-eighth infantry and elements of the fourth". Grace knew that forest – it was remote and expansive…this was bad. She looked back at Dick, who stared seriously back at her, "all outfits are to report to their respective HQ's…all passes are cancelled".

All at once, the men barked back 'no' and 'come on' in frustration, looking to one another in anger as the group who delivered the bad news stormed back out the back doors.

"All men report to their barracks and platoon leaders!" the man yelled walking out.

Sullenly, the men stalked out on the orders. George walked by with Toye, both of them casting looks at Grace. She winked at both of them, gently pulling her hand away from Buck while standing up and surveying the cleared room.

Dick stood up and walked back a few feet into the aisle. Grace followed him and stopped, looking at Buck who was still sitting. Bringing his tired blue eyes up, Buck looked at Grace, his tight smile not reaching his eyes. He looked back down; at Dick and Grace's waiting forms, he heavily stood up and followed them out of the hall.

Walking out, Grace turned to intercept Buck when he strode past her and Dick, nodding curtly and walking briskly towards officer's barracks.

"Do I need to be worried about him?" Dick asked quietly.

Grace turned to him and took a breath, "I think once he gets around the men…gets into familiar territory and talk, he'll be alright. I've seen that before…" she shook her head, "it just…takes some time".

"I have to thank you, by the way", he replied.

Grace furrowed her brow, "for what?"

Dick quirked an eyebrow, "Paris".

"Don't know what you're talking about, sir".

They began walking together, "don't give me that, Grace. You could have used that pass more than me", he cut her off as she was about to disagree, "I'm serious…and it's not my style to accept something that was offered to a lady before me".

Her heart warmed at his sincerity and display of humble chivalry, "it was nothing, Dick, I promise. I'm glad you took it…and I'm glad you had a good time".

"Lew told me the truth behind it as soon as I came back, of course…thank you", he smiled softly at her and she nodded, smiling back.

They walked together out into base, where trucks and jeeps were revving up to move out.

"Ardennes", Grace began.

"You know it?" Dick asked.

"I do", she confirmed, "extensive forest located mostly in Belgium; covered in dense, ancient trees…sparse cities. This time of year…"

"The weather will be brutal", Dick finished for her.

"Yes", she affirmed.

"Walk with me…Dike is going to need to check supplies before we move out". She nodded and walked with Dick in between the trucks. Lieutenant Peacock ran up to them, slinging his rifle around his shoulder.

"Sir?" he called.

"Lieutenant Peacock", Dick replied.

"Sir, have you seen Colonel Strayer?" Peacock asked.

"Where's the Company Commander?" Dick countered.

"Lieutenant Dike? I've been looking for him all day".

Buck fell in step with Grace and Dick as they neared a fire in a trash can. Peacock spoke, rounding on them as they stopped, "how is it that the fourth army's problem gets dumped on the airborne?" Grace held her hands out to the flames.

"Lieutenant Grant?" Dick began.

"Yes sir?" she inquired immediately.

"Lieutenant Peacock?!" Dike materialized out of nowhere and called, cutting off Winters. "Lieutenant Compton…Captain Winters", he said saluting and acknowledging everyone but her. From beside her, Buck glared at the obvious slight then frowned down at Grace who kept her pensive face on Dike.

"Lieutenant Dike, I've been looking for you", Dick responded calmly.

"Sir, we have a problem…Colonel Strayer's not yet returned from some wedding he's attending in London", Dike whined out. Grace took a second to recognize his lame clothing – it was as if he didn't hear the call to move out; he stood standing before them in his BDU shirt and suspenders - no jacket, no helmet. "Can you believe that?" Dike looked around the circle, "we're going to the front….we're going to the front here and our C.O. isn't even in the same damn country".

"You have a bigger problem, Lieutenant Dike", Winters corrected, "you have men returning to action without proper cold weather clothing and not enough ammo."

"Sir?" Dike questioned disbelievingly.

"I suggest you take a canvas of the entire base", Winters offered, implying to him rather than directly ordering with an undercurrent of menace in his voice. "Get what materials you have before you roll out…or have you done that already?"

Greeted first by silence, Dike shook his head, "no, sir".

Winters continued, his gaze never leaving Dike, "K-rations – as many as you can scrounge…we don't know if we'll be supplied or not"

"Yes, sir", Dike nodded. Grace chanced a look to Buck…the familiar spark was in his eye, still narrowed in confusion on Dike.

"What about ammo?" Peacock asked.

"There is no more ammo", Wintered answered and turned back to Dike, "distribute it as best you can amongst the men so at least everyone has something."

"Yes sir", Dike nodded, promptly turning forty-five degrees and barking orders, "Lieutenant Compton, Lieutenant Peacock – inform Lieutenant Shames of the situation…get all platoons as best equipped as you can …report back here to me, understood?" Ignored again, Grace looked at Dick who was looking back at her, his hands out-stretched to the fire.

"Yes sir", Buck and Peacock replied, walking off. Buck patted Grace on the shoulder as he walked past.

"Grant", Dike curtly spoke, not allowing her a response, "Medical supplies…make sure we're covered, you understand?"

Registering Winters' slightly imperceptible flinch, she nodded, "yes, sir".

Ooooooooooo

After taking inventory of Easy's medical supplies, which were slim to nothing, Grace scrounged as best as she could with the other companies to ensure Easy's safety and survival.

Having returned to the medical tent after briefing an uninterested Dike about their status on medical supplies, all she had left to do before jumping on a truck with the men was to pack her medic bag.

She had passed on most of the big-ticket items to Roe and Spina; the larger bandages, braces for moving men off the line – Dike had made it crystal clear to her when she reported to him that she would not be leaving the line at all. Only Roe and Spina were to accompany the wounded to the aid station, wherever it was. She needed to pack light.

Making sure she had her meager supplies tucked into her pack, she hesitated to zip it closed. Her fingers itched for protection…_any _protection. It felt foreign and wrong to be knowingly walking into a battle zone without a weapon. She didn't even have a pair of scissors on her.

As if he was reading her thoughts, Lew breezed into the tent, checking to see that she was alone, "I got something for you".

"If it's not a gun, then I don't want to hear it", Grace teased lightly, taking her helmet off, setting it beside her small pack.

Lew grimaced, "it's not a gun…but it's _something_".

She took the small package from his hand, feeling the handle and slipping it out of the pouch, "a flare gun?"

"Like I said, it's something, Grace. I can't have you going out there without anything at all…not with the skills you've got with a weapon".

Grace laughed, absolutely touched, "Lewis…thank you."

He gently shook his head, "no worries, kid, I mean that". She nodded, placing the flare into her pack and zipping it up. "You alright?" At her quizzical brow and shrug he explained, "with all of this I mean…you _earned_ your Silver Bar and Dike taking away your platoon, your weapon…", he stuttered, not knowing how to say it, "I…I don't know how you're holding up."

"The men help", she nodded slowly, "they distract me. They know that I'm not…happy. But them simply _being_ there helps. It's hard though, I'm not going to lie", she leaned against a bare table, crossing her arms over her chest, "it's hard to have someone take the people you care about away…it's hard not being able to _do_ anything".

Lew stared seriously, his heart reaching out to her, "he won't be C.O. forever…that I can guarantee you – I don't know _when_ he'll go away, but I can tell you that he _will_. We just gotta hang tough".

Grace smirked recognizing Dick's usual catch phrase, "thanks Lew".

"Don't mention it", he pulled her in for a tight hug, planting a kiss on her forehead as he pulled away, "we're moving out soon…you've got to catch a truck in five".

"Will do, Cap", she winked as he smiled and exited the tent.

Oooooooooo

Ron stalked through the throng of men making their way to the trucks, gathering supplies, carrying out orders. He stopped for no man, no man dared stop him; he was on a mission – he needed to find Grace.

His mind had been thrown into an amazing and intoxicating void since their last kiss. He had been given hope for a future…with her. When he was with her, he saw the house he'd buy for her, the car with all the bells and whistles…_the future_…the world. He wanted to see the entire world with her…only her.

But they were still fighting this damn war; by the grim look of the men, the lack of supplies, they were in for the worst of it yet.

He had men to lead, a war to win – and even though she didn't have a gun or men, she wore the same rank he did, she had to be feeling the same way. Not that they couldn't 'do this' – they'd done it, they had gone there even if it remained unspoken – but it needed to wait…it _should_ wait until the war was over.

Why did he feel like he was constantly trying to convince himself of this?

The magnitude in which he felt for Grace…it was profound, unspeakably strong; there was no healthy way he could make the call he needed to out in the field with her in mind…right? Could he do that? Wouldn't it be better to forget, to focus, until he could give her everything; until he could love her in a world without war? Didn't she deserve that?

He had so many questions that his heart was pounding…and it was ridiculous how difficult a question can be when the answer meant so much.

Breathing evenly through his nose, keeping his posture upright, Ron walked to the Easy medical tent, knowing she'd be in there.

Walking in and noting its emptiness, he smirked softly, his heart defrosting at the sight of Grace frustratingly wrapping an army scarf around her pale neck with some trouble. Striding forward, Ron gently grabbed the fabric.

"Let me help you", he offered, a smiled in his voice.

Grace's cheeks burned, she'd gotten caught fighting with the damn wool scarf, "thank you…my hands are too cold to work right now".

"Where are our gloves?" he frowned.

"I traded them for a pack of syrettes".

Finishing wrapping the scarf, Ron studied her flushed face, "you're kidding".

Unaffected, she shook her head, "nope…medic from Item Company drove a hard bargain".

"I'll give you my gloves".

"You don't have any on", she pointed out.

"I'll find some", he asserted.

"You've got a platoon to move out…I'll find some, I promise".

He quirked a brow, "you promise, huh?"

"O m'anam", she said.

"…something about a heart?" he guessed.

"'From my heart'", she clarified, "you know Gaelic?"

"My Grandmother was Irish…she taught me some". He smiled at her, "I didn't know you spoke it".

"Oh God yeah, my father scolded us in Irish…Lew knows some too!" She laughed, "My first words were 'uisce beatha'…means whiskey".

"They start that early, do they?"

"The best of us do, Ron", she said simply, looking him over and growing serious. "I assume you didn't come here for an Irish lesson?"

Ron hesitated, sensing an uneasiness settling in the air. Taking his helmet off and setting on the nearby table beside hers, he nodded, his heart pounded. Looking up into her concerned face, his resolve nearly crumbling at the urge to pull her him, "Grace…"

"You can't do this?" she whispered tentatively. Reading his pained silence as confirmation, she continued quietly, "I know…I've always known…I'm fighting the same war you are".

"I know, I know that…I…", Ron took a breath, "I…", he trailed off, the breath leaving his body. He wanted to tell her he loved her…but how do you ask your love to 'wait for you' when she was fighting _beside_ you?

"You keep leaving me", she quietly mused, numb, "you leave me longing for you again and again…it's killing me".

"I don't mean to…I don't want to hurt you", he insisted.

"Nor I you", she agreed then trailed off. She didn't know what to say. She'd be lying to herself if she thought she didn't expect this…but the hadn't even defined what _they_ were to one another. How could she tell him he meant the world to her, then walk away?

"Waiting is painful, forgetting is painful", he began, "but not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering".

"Wait or forget?" she echoed. She was frightened to ask what they would wait for…could he mean what she wanted him to mean? "Do we have the luxury of time to wait? I'm tired of trying to hold things together…trying to control what can't be controlled". She looked into his hazel eyes and wondered if the same frantic confusion was etched in her face too, "I'm tired of denying myself what I want for fear of breaking what I can't fix", she snorted humorlessly, "it'll break no matter what I do".

"Waiting is not practical", he confessed.

"So we…what…_forget_?" she inquired sadly, "I…I can't…it's not easy to _forget_". She shook her head at the absurdity, "that's like forgetting where you live…forgetting home". She continued after a breath, "some people say home is where you come from…I don't think I agree. It's a place you find..it's scattered and you pick up the pieces along the way".

He knew what she was getting at, but he couldn't stop himself from asking, from hoping he could provoke her enough to say it first; hating the fact he lacked the courage to tell her, "so we reach for these pieces…reach into this chaos and cling to it and tell ourselves it has meaning, and that we'll make it through and we'll all go home in the end?"

"You don't have to trivialize it".

"I'm not trying to", he breathed, "I don't know if forgetting is going to work…in fact it's nearly the same as remembering…but we need to try and forget for our own sake".

"Forget you?" she scoffed, "how? I can _feel_ you right down to my bones…everything you don't say yells itself into my ears". She realized what her reaction revealed but she didn't care, there wasn't enough time anymore to care, "you can walk away from me, you can never speak to me again…do you think that it will keep you from existing to me? That it will make me forget?"

The silence was an intense roar.

His eyes never left hers, pleading her to understand how he ripped his own heart out whenever he parted from her, that leaving her on another eve of battle was even worse. "I need to try and forget", he whispered, "and I need to ignore the fact that I will remember you _all_ the time".

"If _you_ remember me, then I don't care if everybody else forgets".

They stood still, gazing at each other beneath the weight of their confidence and their secrets. However, woven within the thick air, an unmistakable message had passed. It was as though their minds had opened and their thoughts were flowing in the silence, through their eyes. They both were so unmovable from their shared loyalty to the rank, yet to one another, they had come to another impasse.

"I would sooner have you hate me for giving you the truth than adore me for telling you a lie", he urged.

She remained motionless, studying his handsome, concerned features before she calmly spoke, "I'm scared…I'm afraid for myself, the old primitive urge for survival. It's growing now that we're moving out…and I know that soon I'll be living with terrible intensity. It's always happened like that when I'm in the field without a big job to do… 'remember'… 'remember, this is _now_, live it, feel it'. I don't want to forget you…or this. I need it to keep going".

"Gracie…"

"I need to remember before I forget what it means to live. Where we're going…you're going to forget things, forget that you used to feel alright…it's going to be hard to remember what _this_ was like ad I don't want to let it go. I refuse". She looked at him seriously, "but I cannot fault _you_ for surviving. If you have to forget to make it easier…than that's alright". Pulled her medic pack over her shoulder and strode directly to Ron; her warm eyes anchoring him in place as her cool hands wound up and around his neck, pulling his lips to hers. Ron felt her whimper slightly as his arms found her waist and cupped her cheek, the heated kiss becoming desperate as the trucks outside roared to life. Her right hand came up and stroked his face as she reluctantly pulled away searching his eyes, "I…", she stopped herself from saying _it_ right then. Swallowing and putting on a tender smile, she leaned in and whispered into his ear, "I will wait for you". She heard him breath shakily, felt him shiver from her vow. Leaning back to see his face again, she bit her lip as his darkened eyes bored into hers.

"Please stay safe", he begged in a low tone.

Realizing she was letting him go, unable to breathe or speak, she silently nodded then placed a gentle, lingering kiss on his reddened lips. Slipping out of his warm embrace, she put her helmet on and ducked out of the tent without looking back.

Catching her breath, her eyes darted around for a truck with friendly faces.

"Gracie-bird! Over here!" Bill hollered over the engines.

Spotting Bill and Buck leaning out the back of one of the trucks, she gripped her pack straps and ran to their open arms.

Ooooooooo

Squished tightly in front of Lieb and Don, her back pressed against Buck's shins, Grace wriggled her hips to get more comfortable. Every bump the truck hit would have sent her tumbling out the back if not for the tight fit inside. She pulled her jacket collar and scarf up her neck, shivering and damning herself for forgetting to find another pair of gloves.

"You ok there, Angel?" Lieb asked, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he adjusted his collar. She smiled tightly and nodded, rubbing her hands together as the truck hit a pothole that sent her up and out of her seat.

Behind her, Buck's big hands clasped her shoulders, holding her down and keeping her there, "I guess the black-out's not in effect…the Luftwaffe must be asleep", he commented.

"What a difference a day makes, huh Lieutenant?" Ramirez asked.

"Christ, I miss those C-47's", Bill declared over the rumble of the truck.

"We've got a tailgate jump here", Tab said as the truck hit another large pothole, sending Grace up into the air again.

"Shit", she muttered as she grasped at the truck's rear.

"Jesus, come here", Don drawled, grasping her by the waist and holding her to him between his legs, her back pressed to his chest. The truck bounced violently again and Grace held onto Malark's legs as he laughed, "don't worry…I got ya".

Babe spoke out, "I just wanna know where they're sending us…what we're supposed to do with no ammo".

Bill yelled over to the private attempting to light Popeye's cigarette, "hey kid…what's your name again?"

"Sueth…Sueth junior", he answered.

"You got any ammo, Junior?" Babe asked.

"Uh…just what I'm carrying", Junior replied.

"What about socks, Junior, you got extra socks?" Penkala called out.

"I got a pair".

In front of Grace, Skip pointed, "you need four…minimum. Feet, hands, neck, balls…"

"Extra socks warms them all!" the truck yelled together, and Grace smirked slightly as the truck bounced again and she continued rubbing her hands together, trying to get them warm.

"Ok! We all remembered that one", Skip started, "…but we didn't remember the socks".

"You got extra socks, Gracie? You don't got any balls to keep warm", Lieb said beside her.

Her body moved along with Don's chest as he laughed, "Jesus, Joe", he chuckled as he grabbed Grace's hands in front of him and rubbed, warming them up.

"I'd give my goddamn boots for a cigarette", Bill muttered.

"I need ammo, Christ I got nothin'", Christenson said.

"I bet Junior's got plenty of both", Bill guessed.

"How 'bout a hat…you got a hat?" Joe asked.

"Joe, feel how cold her hands are", Don dared, holding Grace's hands to Lieb. He took them in his warm hands and whistled, rubbing his over hers vigorously.

"You got extra ammo?" Perco called out.

"What about a coat…you got a coat?" Joe asked over Grace's hands. He turned to Don, "she needs gloves".

"I've got some smokes", Junior declared, pulling them from his pocket.

"Now you're talkin'", Toye called out as all the men began demanding cigarettes.

The truck made a sharp turn down a narrow makeshift road and Grace could hear truck gates opening. Their vehicle came to a stop and Buck popped the gate open.

Buck grabbed Grace round the waist and set her on the ground, "alright guys, fifteen minutes – smoke 'em if you got 'em".

Tab came up beside her, "where in the hell are we?"

"Sure 'aint in hell…it's too damn cold", Muck sniggered.

"We're in the Ardennes forest…Belgium", Grace answered and took as breath, "I sure hope some supplies show up".

Members of battalion began pouring gasoline into dug out holes and lighting fires. Men stumbled through the snow on the ground to get to the flame to warm up.

"Hey Gracie, you got a light?" Babe asked.

"Sure do, Babe", she answered pulling out her lighter. Her hands shook from the cold as she held it up to Babe's shaking cigarette. Both of them laughed lightly at one another as they both shook.

"Jesus Christ", he muttered as she put her lighter away. Looking up to his face, Grace's brow furrowed seeing him gazing at something beyond her. Turning, Grace did a double-take seeing a line of infantrymen barely marching down the road, out of the woods. Their BDU's were caked in mud and ice, many of them limping and bandaged up. "Hey Bill, Don…come here, look at this", Babe called over.

Bill and Don paused at the side of the road beside Grace, both of their faces masks of disbelief.

Grace looked to them as Don spoke, "what the hell is going on?"

"Hey, you're goin' the wrong way!" Bill called over them. He walked forward and grabbed a man walking by, "hey pal…what happened…where the hell you goin'?!"

The man who was trudging along barely paid Bill any attention, "…they came outta nowhere…they slaughtered us…you gatta get outta here".

"We just got here", Babe told him.

Grace stood, her jaw clenched at the image of these beaten men, "you got ammo?" she asked, the man numbly nodded. She gestured to Bill, Don, and Babe, "give them your ammo."

"Take it…you'll need it", the man spat out, his voice shaking.

"Jesus", Don muttered next to her.

Bill looked at Grace, his expression incredulous as the man hobbled away, "holy Christ", his whispered.

Grace held his stare for a moment before turning to the men around her, "Easy Company…grab what you can from these men! Ammo, grenades…anything you can carry, let's go!" The men scrambled forward, immediately stopping and asking every man walking by. Navigating through the crowd, she spotted a medic, "you got any spare syrettes or bandages?"

He looked her up and down, his eyes wide, "should you be here, miss?"

She pressed her lips together and sighed, "it's Lieutenant….and do you have anything you can spare?" He fumbled around and simply gave her his pack. "Thank you…you got any gloves?"

"Here", he thrust his hands out, slipping off his fingerless gloves. Handing them to her, he held her gaze hollowly, "good luck, Lieutenant". She nodded as he walked away.

From ahead of her, she heard a jeep's horn sound through.

"Make a hole! Hey! I got ammo, grab what you can!" a man called as she ran up.

Grace turned to Toye and Tab, "hey…ammo dump up here…grab what you need!"

Lew walked up, "Lieutenant, you're a God-send". Grace ran up with Tab and Toye to help unload. "What's the situation?"

The dark haired man jumped out of the jeep to help, "well I heard you guys were coming in and there was an ammo dump…so, here. Is it just you guys in the 101st?" He caught sight of Grace, "you guys and a lady, excuse me", he amended surprisingly, "evening, Lieutenant", he said, noticing her rank. Grace nodded her head to him.

"Looks like it's just us", Dick said.

"The Krauts have Tigers, Panthers, SP's, Stukka's…the infantry just kept on coming", the Lieutenant said grabbing ammo boxes from the front of the jeep.

"What's your name trooper?" Dick asked.

"George Raines, tenth armor", he answered.

"Good work, son", Dick said, patting him on the back appreciatively.

Muck approached him, "you got any mortar rounds, sir? We're real short".

"Uh, I'll try to make another ammo run if I can but don't count on anything", Raines answered as he climbed back into the jeep. "Panzer division's about to the cut the road south…looks like you guys", he looked to Grace once again, "and lady…are going to be surrounded".

Dick looked at him unwaveringly, "we're Paratroopers, Lieutenant, we're supposed to be surrounded".

"Good luck", Raines offered, starting his jeep and driving away.

"Thanks", Lew called.

Grace walked over to Buck who was handing out bags of ammo, "you guys got everything you need…we ok?" The men nodded and muttered their approval as they got their stuff together and began marching down the road.

As she turned and began to walk, Buck strode up beside her, "where's your weapon?"

Realizing he was unaware of her new position since Dike took Easy's helm, she spoke softly, filling him in, "Dike relieved me of it…and my platoon. You call for a medic and I'll be there".

Buck's head snapped to her, walking in tandem with her. "You have got to be kidding me", he said in a low tone. "He has no idea what he's done relieving you", he said threateningly.

"I have a flare gun on me".

"A flare gun? Jesus, that's not gonna keep you safe".

"I know", Grace nodded, sighing internally. "We'll get through it though, we'll be ok".

"I got you, Grace…you've protected these men since Toccoa…it's time they protect you now that you need it most", Buck muttered fiercely.

Grace nodded, a lump suddenly in her throat. Buck's words touched her…but _she_ wanted to protect _them_…not the other way around.

Walking towards the bright flashes and sound of mortars and MG fire, her hands idle and grasping the thin strap of her medic bag, she felt exposed and naked. She said a silent 'Hail Mary' up to the heavens in hopes that her men would emerge from this hell still standing.

Ooooooooo

After walking for hours through the early morning to their surrounded position, Grace had begun to dig her foxhole with the help of Roe and Spina. They positioned this first one near the end of the line and had another dug later that day in the middle. It was their intention to dig one more down at the other end so they could be spread amongst the men at different intervals throughout the days and spend the nights together or with the men.

Once the morning fog lifted, Grace knelt by their foxhole and gazed over the field leading to the German's position across from theirs.

The ground radiated cold, covered in a thick blanket of ice and fresh snow. On the American's side of the forest, shards of trees and splintered tree trunks twisted out of the frozen earth as a reminder of a past shellacking. The trees that were still standing were gnarled, frozen solid, covered in ice. Looking across to the Kraut's side, she couldn't make out any busted tree. The trees on their side were standing tall, imposing; signaling their obvious success so far in this battle. Nonetheless, the air surrounding all of them was hollow, cold, icy…the feeling of isolation already sinking in.

Grace had spent the first day making sure everyone was settling in, covering their foxholes, mapping out where everyone was situated, and testing the border and making sure she knew the layout of the land, so when the shit it the fan eventually, she would know where she was going.

That first night fell fast and Spina, Roe, and Grace were sitting in their foxhole discussing where they should go for the night, the moon shining above them and illuminating the snow.

"Should we all stay here?" Spina asked.

Grace shook her head and Roe spoke, "we can't do that…all the medics in one foxhole?"

"No…Gene's right", Grace started.

"What's this?" Dike's voice called over as he walked to them hastily, "three medics in one hole? What if you get hit?!" He gestured wildly, "Spina, Roe…go find other holes to go to." Gene and Spina scrambled out of their hole nodding to Dike and walking off into the darkness to the other men. Grace was about to ask who she should pair up with when Dike cut her off, "You, Grant, you stay here."

His tone was final…and the silence hung in the air as he stood up and straightened his coat, "here, sir…alone?"

He adjusted his helmet and nodded, "I can't have you in close quarters with the men…it's _distracting_. This is your foxhole, you will be here every night, _without company_…that is an order. Understand?"

Unable to respond, Grace sat still, uncomprehending how she was going to survive without the body heat of another person to sleep. At her silence, Dike nodded curtly and took off.

Alone and cold, the walls of her foxhole expanded and freezing air swirled around her. Grace pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around herself, clenching her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut.

How was she going to get through this alone?

**Please, please, please review!**

**O m'anam = **Pronounced "Oh muh amin" – means 'From my heart'

**Uisce beatha = **Pronounced "Ishk-ihh bah-ha' – means 'Whiskey'


	30. Chapter 30

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Thank you to everyone who's recently been 'following' my story…it truly keeps me going. Keep reading and reviewing! It's going to get really good.**

**NOTE: It has been a while since I've updated….and that is absolutely and completely unacceptable. While I'm not fond of excuses….I **_**did**_** get laid off 2 weeks ago – I work in animation so it's not entirely foreign, but the show I worked on didn't get renewed and it's my first time being without a job and living on my own…blah, blah, blah – I've had to do a lot of thinking and while this story was always on my mind, I didn't have the motivation to write anything; after some much needed down time, I'm back at it – and I PROMISE that there will never be another break that large between chapters.**

**Please keep reading and let me know what you're thinking – thank you!**

It was cold….it was always cold.

There are no words to explain what this brand of cold was really like. Somehow, it reached and dug deep into you, got underneath your skin and froze over within. It's a cold that gets into your bones, into your blood, and it feels like your heart itself is pumping out the ice – beating out in cool bursts through your entire body…that's when you suddenly remember you _have_ a body because you cannot ignore it anymore. You feel like an ice cube. You feel like you are naked and you've fallen through thin ice, drowning in icy knives below. You cannot breathe.

It had been just under two weeks…and Grace had managed to duck out of conversations that got anywhere near sleeping arrangements and foxhole buddies. She knew there was talk and speculation about who she was with at night…the gossip was only amongst her closest comrades, and they all assumed she was sneaking off to be with a certain Dog Company Lieutenant.

_How she wished that talk were true._

The gossip was all in good fun and was being kept to a minimum…Gene had filled her in on it – the men were merely concerned about her…but they could not have been more wrong in their jest. Grace discouraged Roe from telling the men her predicament.

She would risk her health if it meant she could stay with Easy.

If Lieutenant Dike was vindictive and well-connected enough to find a loophole to demote her, take her platoon and weapon – he _most definitely_ could finagle a way to kick her out of Easy, the 101st, hell – the ARMY all together.

Grace was not going to give Norman Dike a reason to get rid of her.

She knew the reactions of the men would not be favorable - to put it lightly - should they find out her foxhole situation, and she would attempt to keep it under wraps…as impossible as it may prove.

Grace was aware she had her limits – physically and mentally – and in the back of her mind, she knew Bastogne would test them and take them to the edge. She was not running on much sleep lately. Worried that the men would wander at night to find her, she kept herself busy by patrolling the line; she would find a tree to sit beside to unpack and repack her medic bag, holding the flare gun and wishing it was a pistol…at the very least a luger; she also counted the number of foxholes she passed each night to keep her mind from working, from getting away from her, sliding, slipping…

Slipping to _him_…

It was as if the empty nights were made for thinking of him. Sometimes she found herself so vividly aware of him, even in the desolation of the Ardennes, it was as if he had only just left her…and the ring of his voice was still there, the earthy spice of his skin still lingering in her hair. Somehow, in her loneliness there was a disturbing comfort in that…and despite herself, despite the pain it inevitably caused, she would envision his face.

It was always late at night, when everything and everyone else was quiet, that the tenor of his voice – still fresh in her mind – would rise like a ghost…soft and haunting…filling her mind until sleep would creep upon her. It was utterly masochistic, to participate in this painful dance every night; as much as she wanted to _forget_ their past – like he had – their past refused to forget her; it waited for sleep, then cornered her. Did he know that he had worked his way into her dreams, where she missed him, even in sleep?

There were patrols dispatched every day by Dike, which kept the men occupied, their limbs working, their minds off the cold; Roe and Spina were always sent to neighboring battalions for supplies…, and Grace was left alone, again. Being alone during the day _and_ night…it let allowed for her mind to wander, so she tried desperately to keep busy.

Stiffly standing up, Grace climbed out of her foxhole and adjusted her helmet as she walked to the perimeter of their line. She glanced at her watch: 0300, and grimaced slightly at the pain in her neck and shoulders. Pain had become a friend…pain from the cold, her constant headaches. Pain had never been a friend before, but now it kept her grounded. It forced reality on her and kept her sane.

Ducking low and keeping silent about ten minutes after walking, Grace furrowed her brow – where the hell was the 501st? They were supposed to be on their right flank.

"Flash", a deep voice harshly whispered.

"Thunder", she called softly back.

"Grace?" Lew walked forward, his expression quizzical. Grace could see the days-old scruff on his face as he neared, "what the hell are you doing on the damn line? You don't have a gun or anything, what if someone takes a shot at you?"

She gestured to their right flank, "if someone was shooting at me, it'd be the 501st…and they should be over there".

Lew shook his head and surveyed the area, "we're spread so damn thin". He looked her over, shaking his head slightly, "what are you doing up? Who are you in a foxhole with? You never did tell me when I asked last time."

"I'm over by second platoon", she responded automatically and looking away. Continuing as he frowned at her blatant deflection, she spoke, "we should plug this gap with a squad from second", she began to walk back, "I'll grab Lieutenant Peacock for you…he can send a squad this way". She heard him huff out as she walked away from him, her eyes darting for any action within the tree line.

Lew was unashamedly asking about her foxhole…that was bad; that meant he probably had asked around the men and no one had an answer for him….that also meant the men's interest was piqued more than ever.

Oooooooooo

Avoiding her empty foxhole for the rest of the early morning hours in case Lew came poking around for her, Grace stayed near a large tree in an unfinished foxhole until light bled through the still, white trees.

Walking to the other boundary, she was on her way to scrounge what she could from Third Battalion. Grace was praying they had something to spare. The pack of syrettes she had traded for before they left for Bastogne had blown up in a barrage their second day in. If she didn't find a stash soon, they were going to have to begin stealing aid kits from the men.

Approaching a small hill in the midst of thick fog, Grace paused and peered over the white shrubs, spotting a broken down weapon sticking out of the ground. It was a German weapon…covered in snow and ice; she knew it had been left there for a while, untouched.

Cautiously walking forward, her eyes widened seeing the frozen corpses of long dead German soldiers littering the forest floor. Searching their forms, she took note none of them had any sidearms, ammo, or grenades on them. They must have been stripped…by us or the enemy. _How close are the Krauts to their line? _ Freezing in her tracks, her tired and red-rimmed eyes searched into the stand of trees beyond the icy graveyard before her…there was no movement, no sound.

Feeling the stretching silence begin to gnaw on her nerves and knowing how horribly misdirected she was, Grace turned and walked briskly back to Easy, her boots crunching the snow under-foot. How long were they to hold the line? How long could they last like this? The cold, the silence, the snow…it was a hellish reality that threatened no escape. Without supplies, proper clothing…how long would it be? Grace had given away her scarf and her blanket and her gloves…all went to freezing men who were clinging on to their last thread of humanity in this fresh hell. They needed them more than she did.

Grace came upon Dick, who was preparing to shave, God bless him. Making sure her boots crunched louder as she walked as not to startle him, he looked up and smiled grimly, trying not to react to the cold cream.

"Morning Grace", he spoke quietly as she stopped beside him.

"Morning sir", she responded, deflecting the gravel in her voice by lightly coughing, her hands shoved into the pockets of her field jacket.

Dick looked her over with caring eyes then quickly made work of spreading the shaving cream over his chiseled face, "spoke to Lew earlier…seems our line is tight". Grace nodded, about to confirm when he spoke again, his mannerly tone shaded with a hint of suspicion, "who are you sharing a foxhole with?" Her heart restricted…not wanting to lie or make a fuss about it, when Dick abruptly put his shaving kit down and grabbed his rifle. His left arm pushed Grace gently behind him as he stepped forward, shielding her and steadied his weapon and aimed, "Kommen sie hier". From their crouched position, Grace could see a Kraut soldier not fifteen yards from them; her heart dropped – here she was, without a weapon and they had Krauts meandering right into their line. "Kommen sie hier. Schnell…schnell", Dick commanded. The German put his hands up in the air and approached them, his eyes wide.

After sending for a group from regiment that would take the German off their hands, Dick searched his pockets.

"This him, sir?" A Sergeant from regiment, flanked by two privates asked. Dick nodded his head as they approached.

Pulling out a wallet, Dick thumbed through the German's papers. His hands behind his head, the young German's wide eyes were stuck, unmoving on Grace. His gaze seemingly disbelieving that there was a woman amongst them. Growing slightly uncomfortable, but keeping a steely eye, Grace kept breathing and gazing calmly back. From beside her, Dick's eyes flicked to her face, sensing her discomfort; he pulled out a photo from the wallet and held it up, causing the young man to look at him. Dick held his eyes heatedly as he closed the wallet and placed it back inside his coat pockets. The moment gave Grace a break, but not a second later, the young German was soon gazing at her again. "Lieutenant Grant…bandage". Dick tossed her a bandage from the German's coat, "take him back to regiment", Dick ordered the men who nodded and stalked off.

Grace turned with Dick as a jeep pulled up. Colonel Sink stepped out, along with General McAuliffe. "Morning…y'all know General McAuliffe, acting division commander".

McAuliffe stepped forward, his eyes on Winters and an approaching Strayer, "give it to me straight". Grace silently and inconspicuously stood beside a tree, wanting to hear orders and wanting also to remain unseen.

Colonel Strayer stepped up to answer, "we've been taking ground in one position, General, and losing it in another….now it looks like a stand-off, and we're digging in on the edge of the forest".

Winters nodded, "we're under sporadic artillery fire, General, we're taking a lot of hits and we have no aid station; we're running out of food, we have no winter clothes and little or no ammo. The line is spread so thin, the enemy wanders into our CP", Grace fiddled with the Kraut bandage, as she listened, "we just can't cover the line, sir".

From next to the jeep, a blanket flipped up, revealing a sleepy-faced Lew, "good morning Captain Nixon", Colonel Sink addressed him, "you got anything to add for General McAuliffe?"

"General", Lew said, climbing out of his deep foxhole, "uh…yes, sir", his eyes found Grace's among the trees as he steadied himself, "General, I took a walk on our line at about 0300 last night…couldn't find the 501st on our right flank", he gestured to Grace, "I tied in with a squad from our second platoon, but we've got some considerable gaps in our perimeter".

"I don't have enough people, sir", Strayer candidly spoke, "we're spread too damn thin".

McAuliffe surveyed them all, "hold the line, Colonel", he walked briskly back to the starting jeep, "close the gaps…this God damned fog won't left any time soon, so you can forget about air cover…your first battalion just pulled out of Foy with Krauts on their tail – tanks, artillery, got no back up", the General's eyes found Grace and he nodded seeing her medic badge, "there's a lot of shit headed _this_ way". The jeep drove off, and Grace looked to Colonel Sink, who nodded at her as well, his eyes tight.

Grace followed Dick back to his foxhole, "you alright Grace?"

"Can I scrounge a bandage from your aid kit, Dick?" she asked politely, ignoring the probing shade of his question.

"How are you fixed?"

Grace shrugged, "no plasma, couple of bandages…" Dick nodded and handed her his bandage, "practically no morphine. In fact, I tried to find my way up to third battalion this morning to look for supplies….but, I lost my way".

Dick turned to her, "if you can get over to third, hook up with Doc Lang, he'll fix you up with what he has to spare".

Grace nodded, "thank you, sir", she spoke sincerely, making sure to get out of there before Lew or Dick could ask about her sleeping arrangements again.

"Gracie?" Dick called, "get everything you can…we're going to need it".

Oooooooo

Skipping through Easy's position quickly, Grace found Roe and Spina at work on reinforcing a foxhole, "Doc Roe…Spina", she said, jogging up to them.

"Lieutenant", Roe acknowledged.

"What's happening?" she asked.

Spina shrugged, "diggin' in right along the line".

"Yep", Roe confirmed.

"So", Spina started as he swung his shovel over his shoulder, "what'd you get?"

Digging through her pack, she pulled out a small box, "I got this", she threw it to Roe and tossed the bandage to Spina, "I got us a Kraut bandage".

Sighing, she sat down tiredly at the edge of the hole, Spina's shoulders slumped, "this is it?"

"I'm afraid so", Grace replied, "that's it, that's all we got".

"Jesus", Spina wheezed, shaking his head.

Grace watched Gene as he produced his last bit of morphine – him and Grace each had one syrette left. Her breath escaping her mouth in a fog, she clenched and unclenched her hands, massaged her fingers…trying to get the feeling back in them. "We need morphine…we've only got two syrettes left", Roe spat out.

"Do either of you have extra scissors?" Grace asked them - Roe shook his head and she turned to Spina who did the same.

"First Sergeant Lipton?" Dike's voice called over in their direction.

"Sir", Lip answered, appearing from beyond the fog and trees.

"What's this?" Dike demanded spotting Grace, "together again? I thought I made myself clear…what if you get hit?!" Grace stood up, Dike's eyes boring holes into her. Dike's voice had projected so much, Grace could see Easy men standing up in their holes beyond him…peering over to them to see what the commotion was about. Over a small incline beyond Spina's hole, Grace saw Don, Buck, Joe, Bill, George and Floyd all looking her way. "I gave you a direct order, Grant".

Spotting Don and Buck glance at one another, Grace was about to respond to break the tension when Lipton strode up to Dike, "sir?"

His attention now averted, Dike turned to Lip, "First Sergeant Lipton, where is my foxhole?"

Letting a stunned moment pass, Lip gestured away, "it's over here, sir…maybe you missed it, huh?" Lip chanced a quick look at Grace and continued, "I'll walk you back, sir, you're a bit close to the line here".

Dike turned, disgusted, back to Grace, "God damnit", he seethed as he turned back and stalked off.

Knowing she should make herself scarce now that some attention had turned their way, Grace turned to take the long way back to the other side of Easy's position when Roe fell in step with her. She walked quickly past Don, Buck, and George, averting her eyes as Gene spoke quietly to her, "Lieutenant…Grace?...how are you holding up?"

Making sure she was out of ear-shot, Grace shrugged, "I'm alright, Gene…are you doing ok?"

"I notice you're not wearing your scarf anymore", he said neutrally.

She nodded, "there was a private on the far edge of Fox Company's line…he needed it more than I did, that's for sure".

"And your gloves?"

"Same story, different day, Doc…I'll be alright, I promise", she countered; he nodded, "we've got to make sure we hoard our morphine, bandages…anything. Sounds like we're about to get hit real good this time and we need to be prepared…especially being without an aid station. I hate for it to come to this, but we've got to scrounge from the men's aid kits now. Ask anyone and everyone…and we need to make sure we find a pair of scissors".

"You got it, Lieutenant", Roe nodded respectfully and jogged off.

Grace veered right and jogged up to Bill, "hiya Bill".

"Gracie-bird!" Bill greeted, walking to his hole, "you come to keep me warm?"

"Classic, Bill…don't think I've heard that one before", Grace teased, playing with her fingers again absently.

"Who's foxhole you crashing in at night around here anyway?...we kinda got a bet goin'", he asked over his shoulder pointedly, casting a worried look her way.

"Did you keep your morphine from Holland?" ignoring his question completely, she smiled tightly as he shook his head, worry beginning to etch itself into his features now.

"No", he paused, "send Doc over here if you see him, huh?"

"What's wrong?" she began, "is your leg alright?"

He shrugged, "eh…hell with the leg…I'm pissin' needles."

"Oh Jesus, Bill…I don't have anything for you right now…" she threw him a disapproving look over her shoulder as she jogged on, "Lulu's, huh?"

"Not all of us have a sweetheart we're waitin' on, Angel", he called back.

Rolling her eyes at the comment, Grace found Liebgott a minute later digging his hole deeper, "hey Joe…Alley", she knelt by their foxhole.

"Where you been my whole life, Gracie?" Joe's sarcastic voice brought a smirk to her features…she had truly missed being with the men…and having to keep quiet on her foxhole situation made casual talk a rare occurrence.

"Nice mustache, Lieb", she quipped as Alley chuckled and Joe winked. "You boys keep you morphine from Holland?" she asked both of them. Joe shook his head, but Alley nodded and tossed her his one single syrette. "Thank you…what about scissors?"

Joe was about to answer her when a tree exploded nearby. Jumping up to her feet, Grace ran through falling trees and flying dirt, checking and making sure everyone was all right. "SHIT!" She heard as she ducked near a foxhole and looked in to see if they needed help.

"You ok?!" she called, looking over to Don and Skip.

"They peppered my helmet!" Skip yelled over the rounds.

"Stay down Gracie!" Don hollered over to her, reaching for her hand and yanking her to him as dirt sprayed up nearby – he immediately checked her over for wounds.

"Medic!" a voice Grace recognized as Penkala screamed out over a few foxholes.

Grace scurried out and made to run as Skip yelled, "Grace! Morphine!" He tossed her his syrette and she caught it and ran.

Dirt and debris flying up beside them, Grace ducked and turned to Don, "where's Penkala?"

"With Bull!" he shouted.

"Medic!" Penkala called again. Grace ran a few feet and paused near a skinny tree, a spray of snow thrown in her face, boom's echoing around her.

Running through falling dirt, she ran to the nearest foxhole, falling in when a mortar hit nearby. She fell onto Johnny Martin's lap as she called out, "you fella's hit?!"

"No we're alright, Lieutenant" Johnny yelled over the barrage.

"You ok?!" Popeye shouted.

"Medic!" Grace nodded and pulled herself out of their hole, running still towards the screams. As she neared Alex's yells, rounds hit nearby knocking her to her knees – she rolled over and got back up, running to his hole. "Grace!" he screamed.

"Penk! I'm comin'!" she yelled to him.

"Grace!" She rolled into the hole Penk shared with Bull. "It's the God damned artery…I know it!"

He was gripping his wrist with his right hand, screaming, and Grace grabbed his arm, "I need to see…loosen your fingers, Alex!" she called over the barrage and sound of gunfire. She couldn't see how deep the shrapnel went, "loosen your fingers, now!"

"I'm gonna bleed to death", Penkala moaned over to Bull who was beside him, his rifle pointed out to the line.

"Damnit, Penk, come on", Bull grunted.

"It's not the artery", Grace confirmed, seeing the wound clearly now.

"I 'aint going back, Gracie", Alex affirmed.

"What?" Grace asked, reaching for a bandage to patch him up.

"I 'aint goin' nowhere…not in this shit!" he yelled.

Grace wound the bandage around his wrist as she yelled back, "you don't want to go out in this shit but you yell 'medic'?"

"I don't need to go back to no aid station!" he called.

"Well you're in luck, Penk", Grace said finishing the bandage job as a final mortar landed nearby, "because we don't have an aid station." The three of them breathed heavily as the dirt settled, signaling an end to the barrage for now. "Alex, I need scissors, do you have any scissors?"

"What the hell do I need scissors for?" he asked, breathless.

"Watch your God damn language, Penk", Bull scolded for Grace's sake.

"Then I need your aid kit", Grace insisted as Penk reached for it and handed it over. Grace nodded, "thank you…now you don't need this, not yet…alright, I do".

After sending Spina and Babe over to the Third battalion for a supply run and a break off the line, Grace and Roe took inventory of their pathetic aid kits they'd managed to scrounge. There wasn't much, they would need more for sure…but they would have to make do with what they had.

Oooooooo

Hours later, around dinner time, Eugene Roe sat with his back to a tree near a group of men sniggering about Babe and Spina's run-in with a Kraut looking for Hinkle. Keeping his eyes squinted in the direction Lieutenant Grant walked off in a few minutes earlier; Gene overheard the men's conversation.

"Joe, these smell like my armpit!" Malarkey whined.

"Yeah, at least your armpit's warm", Muck countered.

"You want syrup with that?" Joe Domingus shot back at them.

"Joe, be honest" Malarkey said, "what's in these things anyway, huh?"

Joe smirked, "nothing you won't eat, Malarkey".

"I won't eat Malarkey", Muck laughed along with the others.

Lieutenant Peacock wandered up next to them, "anyone see Lieutenant Dike?"

"Try battalion CP, sir", Malarkey suggested.

"Try Paris", Muck muttered as Peacock walked away.

"Try Hinkle", Malarkey joked.

"Hey Gene, I bet Dike's got a syrette for you", Babe said over his shoulder.

"Yeah I bet he's not using his", Muck laughed.

"Ask Hinkle for his", Julian teased.

Gene laughed with them, taking a drag from his cigarette as Guarnere walked up and nodded to Malarkey, who got up from the group and approached him. Roe watched their silent exchange as the two of them walked up to the tree he was against.

"Hey Doc?" Malarkey began, "we got a question".

Gene looked up to his face, seeing hesitation. He stood up and looked to Bill and seeing the same concern, nodding, placing his helmet back on his head and letting Malarkey lead them a few yards away from the group of men, "you both ok?"

"Yeah" Malarkey stopped, "yeah, we're fine", he looked at Gene seriously, "we got a concern…about Grace".

"Lieutenant Grant?"

"Yeah…listen, me and Malark were talking with Buck, George, Tab, some of the other fellas", Bill said quietly, "we haven't figured out who she's bunking with".

Gene shrugged, knowing Grace did not want him telling the men she was ordered to stay alone in a foxhole and starting something…but Gene knew she _needed_ them to know for her safety, for her own good. Gene fixed them both with a stare and shook his head, "I don't know where she goes at nights". That much was the truth…he knew where she _should _be, but she was rarely there when Gene had gone to check on her. He knew the men would talk…Grace was special to all of them and Roe _knew_ they would ask these questions.

Bill squinted, taking a long pull from his cigarette and looked to Don who shook his head and spoke lowly to the two of them, "what if she's alone?"

"No one would let her be alone, Malark, come on…Captain Nixon wouldn't allow it", Bill said.

Roe kept his eyes trained on his hands as Don urged, "if you find out from her what the story is, let us know, huh? She doesn't look like she's sleeping… and the boys are worried".

Oooooooo

Having used the rest of the day scrounging bandages and the like, Grace had aimlessly found her way back to her empty foxhole long after the light disappeared.

The familiar cool wind whipped mercilessly around her shoulders and she closed her eyes to the unwelcome sensation. Pressing her back to the dirt wall and bringing her knees up, she plunged her hands into her jacket pockets and fought against a shudder that ripped through her body. It was then that Grace realized why she had a seemingly permanent headache: she was constantly clenching her jaw to prevent it from chattering. _How pathetic_.

"Lieutenant Grant?"

Grace opened her eyes to the well-known whisper, "Doc".

Roe quietly slid into her foxhole, his eyes sweeping her, "where's your blanket?"

She set her jaw, feeling like a child who had been caught in a scheme, "I was over by the OP last night…the boys were like icicles. They need a little comfort while keeping an eye out on the line".

He sighed, "I'm tryin' to help you, Grace. The boys are talkin' and they asked me today who you bunk with."

"If Dike catches me in a foxhole…" she began.

"He's never around", Roe insisted, "he goes to battalion CP or regiment at nights".

"I was given direct orders", she whispered, her mind considering what Gene said…_he was right, Dike was never around_.

"You need to sleep…I'm just tryin' to look after you like I promised…"

Grace narrowed her eyes slightly through the haze of exhaustion, "like you _promised_?" Roe remained silent, his eyes avoiding hers, "Gene?"

He shook his head, "it's nothin', Grace".

"Did Nixon put you up to something?" she asked softly.

"It was Speirs."

The silence hung between them, suspended in the cold air. Recomposing her shocked expression and focusing on the visible breath she expelled, Grace shook her head absently, "Speirs?"

Roe nodded, "he spoke with me before we shipped out here…"

"What did he say?" she whispered.

"He asked me to look after you – make sure you were warm, that the men were treating you right, that you were sleeping…that you had a decent blanket", she looked up to his pensive face as he nodded once, "yeah…he gave me that blanket".

"I'm sorry, Gene…you don't need to be looking after me, we're supposed to be keeping an eye on everyone else".

"You've kept an eye on me since the beginning…now you need some lookin' after, if I can say."

"I'll petition Dike's order tomorrow…if I can find him".

"Grace…" Roe began.

She gently interrupted him, her teeth chattering slightly, "it's alright, Doc…I'll be ok."

Roe fixed her with a defiant look before nodding and climbing out of her snowy foxhole.

Trekking his way through the now-falling snow, he navigated through the mostly covered foxholes until he located the one he was looking for.

Clearing his throat, he knelt down, "Lieutenant…Lieutenant Compton".

Buck peered out over the covering tarp, his brow furrowed, "Doc?"

"Sir, is Malarkey with you as well?"

"I'm right here", Malarkey sat up beside Buck.

"What's going on, Doc? Everything ok?" Buck asked, searching his face.

"Malarkey, you asked me about Grace earlier…"

"What about Grace?" Buck urged.

"Yeah, yeah I did, Doc…what'd you find out?"

Gene gestured to where he'd come from, "she's without a foxhole buddy…"

"What?" Malarkey said, worried, looking at the thick falling snow.

"In this downfall? Who was she sharing with? Why is she alone?" Buck demanded quietly.

Gene shook his head, "she's been alone since we got here, sir. Lieutenant Dike gave her orders that she wasn't to…_distract_ the men. She was ordered to stay alone."

"Son of a bitch", Don growled dangerously as he and Buck immediately climbed out.

"Where is she, Doc?" Buck commanded.

Oooooooo

Grace frowned, curling herself up into a tighter ball. If it wasn't for her helmet, her whole head would be covered in snowflakes. Her body heat, or what was left of it, was melting the snow on her…soon she'd be all wet. She can't afford to become hypothermic. Her muscles were shivering and convulsing…her throat becoming tight in spite of her misery and she swallowed a strangled sob.

She imagined Ron…what his warmth would feel like beside her tonight. His words with Gene bounced around her thoughts. Pulling her arms tighter around herself, she struggled to hang onto consciousness…if she fell asleep in this, would she awake?

"Grace?"

"Shit…Buck?" she squinted up through the snow at two figures standing above her hole, her breath coming in staggered shivers.

"Jesus Christ, Gracie", Don muttered darkly as she blinked up at them.

"You're coming with us, Angel", Buck said in an uncompromising tone, leaning down to help her up.

The three of them walked silently back to Buck and Don's covered foxhole. Buck jumped in first and turned to lend a hand to Grace.

"I have orders", she shook her head, her body shaking, "if I get caught…"

"We heard, but he's not around…it's going to be ok", Don offered sincerely behind her.

Hesitating slightly, Grace nodded to Buck's face as she grasped his hand; her urge for warmth and survival stronger than her loyalty to orders.

Buck and Grace sat down against the wall as Don jumped in and pulled the tarp, now rapidly collecting snow, over them.

"Come here", Buck demanded gently as he opened his arms to Grace as Don pulled another blanket over them. Scooting over to him, Grace could feel the warmth he offered coming off in waves. Laying her cheek down on his chest beneath his chin, her hand came up and gasped his jacket in her fist. Breathing out evenly and welcoming the heat, Grace curled herself around him and sighed. "You're not sleeping alone anymore, Gracie".

From next to her, Don sniggered in jest, "wanna take a bet at how many guys around here have wanted to say that?"

Grace smirked against Buck's chest as he let out a chuckle, "go to sleep Malark".

**Please review!**

**Much more to come this week!**


	31. Chapter 31

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**A big 'Thank you' to CAPTAIN TY and LIZZIE 1708 for your wonderful, wonderful reviews; it keeps me writing and keeps me excited and thinking about this story all the time.**

_She felt warm…warm from _him _beside her. Lifting her face to his neck, she smiled, eyes closed, as she nuzzled into him, taking in his earthy scent. _

'_Grace', he whispered hoarsely, his voice treating her name like a prayer as his arm pulled her tighter against him._

_His intense warmth bled through, filling her, and she moaned breathily into his ear. She was pressed up against his side, her right arm resting across his stomach. She sighed, pushing herself against him in desperate search for _more_ as her arm dragged lazily up and gripped onto his chest, she felt him shift beneath her in response as she draped her leg across his lap. Feeling his breath near her lips and being unsatisfied with how far away he _still_ felt from her, she slid her hand down his chest…down his stomach…bit her lip as her fingers ghosted over his belt and felt their way to his hip…_

"Gracie…Jesus Christ, you're killing me", George's voice husked shakily in her ear.

Confused and blinking at the light bathing the snow around them through the morning fog, Grace froze, realizing she was wrapped around George Luz…not Ronald Speirs.

Across from them in the foxhole, Tab sniggered, "holy shit…_that_ was quite a show, Grace".

Feeling the biting cold she felt as she gingerly pulled her limbs away from George, Grace grimaced, "God, I'm sorry George".

Presenting her with a dimpled grin, George shook his head, "don't be…you can share my foxhole _every_ night if that's what happens".

"Oh God", Grace laughed sleepily, embarrassed.

"I can see now why the guys argue over who gets you at nights", George chuckled.

"That was a first", she insisted, "believe me".

"Must've been a good dream, huh?" Tab inquired, smirking.

Leaning up against the iced wall of their foxhole, Grace blushed, "you have _no_ idea".

The three of them laughed softly, stretching as George shook his head in commiseration, "girlie, do you know who you're talking to? I definitely sympathize".

Ooooooooo

"Fight well for your God and your country", the Battalion Chaplain spoke calmly in front of his jeep where he'd created a makeshift altar, "God bless you all and stay safe", he urged.

Grace stood up and beside her, Skip spoke nudging her in the ribs as she placed her helmet back on her head, "that's it guys, nothing more to worry about…if we're gonna die now, we're gonna die in a state of Grace".

George chuckled, "I just cleansed my soul here, Skip, don't make me dirty it up again by acknowledging the irony of what you just said".

Grace sniggered as Johnny and Hoobler passed him. Hoob smacked his shoulder in jest, "shut up, Luz".

Turning, Grace spotted Roe pulling up having just come back from Bastogne. She approached him with Spina behind her, "Roe…Battalion called for a reconnaissance patrol."

Spina nodded, "Kraut hunting".

"I'm planning on accompanying them and I'm gonna need someone to hang behind for precaution", Grace stated.

Roe nodded, "alright, I'll go." He handed the box of supplies he had in his arms to Spina, "give these boots to Toye, tell him they're a nine".

Spina nodded and walked away as Grace turned to Roe, "how was Bastogne?" She was almost afraid to ask given the grim look on his features.

"Bleak", Roe responded.

Walking up to the squad, Grace spotted Martin and Peacock conversing about the patrol. She had heard about the patrol right before the church service and was concerned; they would most _certainly _make contact with German forces…and she was concerned about Peacock leading it. She was intent on going and as she passed George and Bull, George yanked on his radio and huffed, obviously complaining about Peacock, "…asshole couldn't find a snowball in a blizzard".

She neared Peacock and Martin as Private Julian ran up, "…that's the orders", Peacock finished.

Julian addressed Martin eagerly, "sir, let me be the lead scout".

Grace bit back a smirk as Johnny nearly rolled his eyes, "get back in line, Private".

Peacock turned to the men, "that's it, let's move out!"

"Tactical columns, gentlemen!" Martin called out. He spotted Grace and Roe nearby, "Lieutenant, Doc…this is a combat patrol...we could make contact, shots could be fired…"

Grace regarded his concerned face carefully, "…and?"

Johnny smirked, "Grace…" he began.

"I'm coming with you, Sergeant…Doc can remain here, in reserve", she said respectively.

The walk was quiet and ominous; snow falling in fluffy clumps all around them, their breath swirling around as they gained ground, the only sound being soft footsteps and the swishing of their equipment.

After minutes, Peacock slowed them; Johnny and Julian having run forward to secure the next twenty yards. Grace crouched absolutely still, up next to Bull, Christianson and Hoobler.

PFFFT PFFFT PFFFT PFFFT PFFFT PFFT PFFT

The sound of gunfire broke the eerie silence and Grace tensed.

PFFFT PFFFT PFFFT PFFFT

Returning fire was heard soon after.

"BULL! CHRISTIANSON!" Martin's voice screamed, "Everybody up on line!" Grace got up and ran with the men, the gunfire growing louder. "MEDIC! We've got a man down!"

Grace threw herself down on a pile of downed trees beside Martin. Peering over his shoulder as he returned fire, she saw Julian lying out in the open on the snow facing them, his neck bleeding profusely. "STAY STILL JULIAN!" she yelled. She got on her stomach and attempted to inch forward to grab Julian's coat to drag him to safety, but a line of dirt flew up in front of her face – German bullets were going to prevent her from getting to him. "STAY STILL!"

"SUPPRESSING FIRE!" Martin hollered, trying to fend off the Kraut rounds.

"What do we got?!" Bull called.

"It's Julian!" Grace called back, turning around behind cover.

"I can get him, Lieutenant!" Babe screamed as he inched down to where Grace had been. Again, dirt flew up in front of them, blocking their way. Grace held onto Babe's pants, preventing him from lunging into fire as she stared, broken hearted at Julian, who was now spitting up thick, red blood. _God, how were they going to reach him?_

"Easy red six! We've got a man down!" George yelled into the radio.

"We can't leave him here!" Babe screamed.

"PEACOCK LEFT!" Bull roared, turning abruptly to them.

"WHAT?" Martin and Grace yelled simultaneously.

"Are you kidding?!" Grace shouted to no one, appalled that Peacock ran off somewhere, leaving the men in this firefight.

"Lieutenant!" Johnny called to her, she turned to him…he was holding out his sidearm to her, "what are your orders, Lieutenant?"

Immediately, Grace's hand reached forward retrieving the familiar lump of metal. In an instant, she snapped into the impromptu role, "COVERING FIRE!" The men popped off more rounds, Grace joining them. Ducking behind the cover, she looked over to Babe, trying desperately to reach a struggling Julian. Babe made a move forward, but a barrage held him down again.

Grace leaned down with Babe, making sure he didn't get hit. "Stay there, don't move!" Babe called over to Julian. Grace squinted to take a look at his wound…it was bad, very bad. If they couldn't get to him within the next minutes, he wouldbleed out. If he stopped moving, the Krauts might think he was dead…and they may cease-fire.

"STOP MOVING!" Grace called over to his terrified young face. Her heart constricting, she recognized a man going into shock. There was no way Julian could hear their pleas over the gunfire, over his trauma or the sound of his own heart. Beside her, she heard Babe screaming, echoing her command to stop his movements; behind her, she heard Johnny and Bull yelling over to the men, George calling into his radio. Grace was alight with searing anger toward Peacock. He left his men, he left his patrol… and now it fell to her to make the inevitable call to pull back, to leave Julian…to leave him there to die… scared and alone.

Grace leaned back to cover, sickened and with a heavy heart, sharing a knowing look with Johnny.

"Pull back!" Christianson bellowed, "we gatta pull back!"

"WE GATTA GO! LET'S GO!" Grace hollered to Bull and Johnny, gesturing back to their line, "GO, GO, GO!" She made sure the men were covering fire for one another while running back then she turned back to Babe, "BABE!"

"MOVE!" Bull yelled as the last men picked up and began to run back.

"JULIAN! Stay with us! Stay with us! I'm coming back for you!" Babe screamed, his voice straining.

"It's ok, Julian! It's all gonna be ok!" Grace called to him, nearly retching at the prospect of abandoning him here. She turned to Babe, grabbing his arm forcefully, "HEFFRON, LET'S GO!"

Grace ran at full speed pushing a near hysterical Babe in front of her, catching up quick to the retreating men.

"On me!" Johnny called out.

"Where the hell are we?!" Hoobler yelled.

"Straight ahead, let's go! Keep moving!" Grace ordered, making out Roe's standing figure amongst the trees.

PING!

Private Wells, running five yards in front of Grace, got hit by a rouge bullet and fell down hard. Grace lunged forward with George, grabbed Wells by the arms, and dragged him, Roe immediately ran to them.

With Roe instantly taking over and treating Wells, Grace turned back to the men who were dropping into position to cover fire. They were back at their line, but they still needed a leader to call the shots. Running forward and dropping to a knee next to a stump, she called out, "alright! Christianson, set up the MG!" Ready to return fire should the Germans advance on them, Grace swept the forest in front of them with Johnny's sidearm out in front of her, "eyes sharp, eyes sharp!" From behind her, Grace could hear George calling for an aid jeep on the radio.

"GRANT! GRANT!" hearing Lew's voice yelling near George, Grace turned.

"Yes sir!?" she yelled.

"What's going on!?"

"They got Julian!" she answered.

"He's still alive!" Babe screamed.

"We don't know that!" Johnny called to him.

"We got to go get him, sir!" Babe cried.

"Did you hit an OP or their line?!" Lew asked over the sound of bullets still firing.

"Their line!" She answered, a bullet hitting the stump she was crouching behind. Turning forward, she held the gun steady in front of her and fired confidently.

"We gatta go back, sir, to get Julian outta there!" Babe said.

"No, FALL BACK!" Lew ordered.

"We lost Peacock", Bull spat out.

"No, he's up at company CP", Lew clarified. "Come on, Gracie, FALL BACK! Get 'em outta here!"

Grace turned, making sure they could leave, making sure Wells was stable and being taken away from the bullets, but Roe wasn't done…he was still kneeling with George by his side ready to help drag Wells away. "Let's go, Doc…we gatta fall back, Doc!" George urged Roe, who was tying up the bandage. "Fall back, Doc, we gatta move, LET'S GO!"

"GRANT, MOVE 'EM, MOVE 'EM!" Lew screamed over the popping rounds, growing impatient.

She looked back again, seeing Roe and George carrying Wells to safety. Standing up and firing the gun for cover for her men, she shouted, "MOVE OUT! LET'S GO!" Standing still and firing, she made sure all her men had begun to run back as she finally turned and ran.

Reaching the safety of camp after passing their OP, the men all ran right in; Grace felt herself suddenly being pulled over, away from them. Looking over, she met the steely gaze of Captain Nixon.

"What the fuck happened out there?" he demanded.

Grace was livid, incensed even – but she had the head on her in this moment to know that Lew was _not_ speaking to her like a Captain would to a Lieutenant. In order to make a point to him, she needed to focus, "we hit their line, Julian went down, and we covered fire to try and retrieve him, sir".

Lew shook his head, "don't _sir _me, Gracie…I wanna know what the fuck happened out there".

With his riled and inconsiderate manner, Grace's focus quickly evaporated, "you wanna know what the _fuck _happened?" she said in a serious and lone tone, "our scout got hit…we were pinned down and couldn't get to him…_you're Lieutenant_ abandoned the men…as the only ranking officer, I took command. We tried to reach Julian, but we couldn't…I had to give the order to pull back to save my men."

"Who's sidearm is that?"

"It's Martin's", she looked at it in her hands, then accusingly back up to Lew's fierce stare, "don't worry, I'll give it back to him before Dike catches me…we wouldn't want him to know that I actually _did _ something today". Stalking away from him at once, Grace made her way over to the men. Passing by Peacock who was leaning on a tree with Lieutenant Shames, she openly glared, giving him a stare that Ron would have been proud of. Peacock shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze and pretended not to see her. Approaching the men, she spotted Dick who caught her eyes and nodded to her, beckoning her over. Stopping next to him, she spoke in a low and hollow voice, "we couldn't get to him, sir. We tried…Babe tried…we couldn't get to him". She looked up to his face, his blue eyes bore into hers sadly as he nodded and looked toward the men. Walking quietly over to Johnny, Grace handed his sidearm back, "thank you, Sergeant".

"Anytime, Lieutenant", he said quietly back. As she made past him, he touched her arm, "you did a hell of a job stepping up today".

She smiled tightly at him, shrugging and looking over the men, "it's my job, Johnny". Catching Buck motioning towards her, Grace nodded to Johnny and made her way over to Buck.

Placing an arm around her shoulders, Buck walked with her towards George and Tab's hole, "I heard what happened."

"We need a solution for the complete lack of leadership here…between Dike and Peacock and Shames. Hell, it was by chance that I even found out about the patrol…right place and time", she spoke in a hushed voice. "_All _of the men could have been killed because Peacock doesn't know his ass from his armpit".

Buck held her heated gaze – absorbing the desperate anger there – the type of anger reserved for someone who is absolutely capable, but has their hands tied. He didn't respond…he didn't have anything to add, he agreed completely. "How are you doing at nights?"

Grace took a breath, "I'm doing ok". With it being so close to Christmas, the temperatures had dropped, and Grace thanked God every night that she had someone beside her. It had been just over a week since Buck and Don forced her out of her lonesome foxhole…and she had never felt more indebted. "How are you?" she asked, knowing he was on edge lately, with Easy having been on the receiving end of a couple barrages lately.

He squeezed her shoulder and nodded, "I'm doin' alright Gracie-bird".

Oooooooo

On the other edge of the line, Ron was near his OP, watching their perimeter. Dog Company was located on the line of the path to Bastogne; they saw all the aid jeeps rush past and Ron made sure to keep an eye out as to _who _was being carted off the front line.

Over the last few days, the front had taken a couple beatings from barrages and attempted advances from the Krauts. Easy Company was on the front…_Grace _was on the front…and Ron was losing sleep.

It had been weeks…nearly a month since he had seen her face, heard her voice. He was an imbecile to think he would be better off _forgetting _her. It had been a tactic to distance himself emotionally, make it easier to walk away, to face battle again… and it was not helping. He thought of her often – who was she with at night; were they making sure she was warm – she was much smaller than all the men, in stature and in weight, and without proper clothing and freezing weather, she could be in trouble.

Hearing a jeep approach their position, Ron's head snapped up and spotted Roe in the passenger seat for the second time today. It had been since their second night in the Ardennes that Ron had spoken to the Easy Company medic…too long; he needed to know about Grace and he gave into the itch to ask. Ron held out his hand to stop the vehicle, "Doc Roe, I've got some bandages for you".

Gene nodded and jumped out of the jeep, it had been a while since he stopped by Dog to scrounge, "thank you, Lieutenant, it's much appreciated".

Ron walked a short distance with Gene before picking up a box and handing it over, "it's not a problem…you need them more than we do". He paused, lowered his voice, and looked at him seriously, "how is she?"

Roe held his gaze, "now that she's got a foxhole buddy, she's doin' alright, sir", he answered honestly.

Ron frowned and looked at him dangerously, "she didn't have one before?"

Internally, Gene was damning himself for letting that slip…it was just his luck he had to deliver this news twice, "uh, Lieutenant Dike ordered her to a foxhole alone…she stayed alone for almost two weeks before someone found out, sir."

Hatred. Something as physical as walls, as a jeep, as a gun. Ron could almost touch the destructive energy leaking out of his body at this information. Imagining Grace alone in a foxhole in _this_ weather and _this_ circumstance, his blood boiled over. At first he allowed the hatred to emerge, not caring; but then he forced it to settle bitterly in his chest, knowing Dike's days as C.O. were numbered anyway. "She's alright now? She's with someone?" Ron inquired steadily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Gene nodded, "apart from being without a scarf, Lieutenant Grant is good, sir. She's rotating amongst the men she's closest to so Dike doesn't catch wind."

Ron automatically pulled off his scarf and handed it over to Gene, "give this to her", he was unable to keep her warm physically but he could give her this.

"What about you, sir?"

"I'll find another", Ron responded curtly. Roe nodded and placed the scarf in the box of bandages.

Oooooooo

Hardened snow crunched beneath their stiff jump boots as Grace and Floyd made their way back to their position. Floyd had accompanied Grace to Third Battalion for a fruitless supply run. Not wanting to have a run-in with Hinkle, they both kept a keen eye on their surroundings while conversing softly.

Grace took a deep breath through her nose, the scent of the trees reminding her of her father, "you know why the trees smell the way they do?"

Tab laughed, "Sap?"

Smiling nostalgically, Grace shook her head, "stars. My Dad used to say that trees breathe in starlight year after year…so if you cut them open, you can smell hundreds of years' worth of light; it's ancient. That's why they smell so beautiful and old".

He laughed again, "I've never heard anything like that before".

"Yeah, my Dad was full of stuff like that", she chuckled. It was the moments like this; full of tender and ridiculous nostalgia that she knew something inside her was still broken.

"Do you believe in fate?" Tab asked quietly as their position came into sight.

Grace considered for a moment, slowing her pace, "I think I do…. it's hard to believe here; I mean…how many times can we escape a barrage unscathed…before one day we don't?"

Tab nodded, "Yeah, I know…but what about _fate_…like, I don't know, like someone is out there that you're meant for." Grace turned her face towards Tab's as he clarified, "don't get me wrong, I still love ya to death…but there's this girl back home…"

Grace smiled, "yeah? A girl, huh? She's been writing you?"

"Yeah…friend from back home…Liz", Tab confessed as he smiled.

Grace bumped his arm, "that's great, Floyd". She nodded, "yeah…yeah, I believe in that kind of fate", she said softly.

He sniggered under his breath, "I know…_Sparky_".

Smiling sadly, Grace shrugged, "yeah, I suppose".

"You suppose?" he questioned sarcastically.

"You and George and the close fellas all like to give me shit about him", she laughed defensively.

"When you get home, are you gonna get hitched?"

"Ha! Jesus…that hasn't come up quite yet", she laughed at the irony; after all, Ron had suggested they _forget_ one another.

"Don't you want to?" he asked.

"Get married? Well sure, but that's not _the goal_, you know?" Grace said, "I don't want to get married just to be married; I've seen it happen too many times before…and I can't think of anything lonelier than spending the rest of my life with someone I can't talk to…or worse, someone I can't be silent with".

Tab frowned, "you can't be those things with Speirs?"

"I _can_, definitely I can…we _do_…but I don't know if we can walk away from this war with our lives…let alone any sort of love intact", she admitted.

"You love him?" Grace realized she had never divulged that information to anyone but an inebriated Lewis. She nodded, the words caught in her throat; she was surprised that she couldn't say it aloud. "Well then what's wrong?"

"It's lost", she shook her head, "it's a lost love…it…I don't know".

"Lost love is still love, Gracie", Tab urged, "it just takes a different form, that's all…and it doesn't have to stay lost, it can be found again. Life has to end, love doesn't".

Grace smiled, touched with his care to give her words of encouragement, "look at you, Romeo", she teased, deflecting, "I'm happy for you Tabby, Liz is a lucky woman….Lizzie Talbert…that's got a really good ring to it, huh?"

He blushed, biting his lip, "yeah…it does." Laughing as they neared the men, he turned to her, "Gracie Speirs…" Grace's heart fluttered out of her chest at the pairing spoken aloud, "…kinda sounds like 'greasy spoons'."

"You shut up, Floyd Talbert", Grace laughed good naturedly, tugging on his arm.

"Lieutenant Grant?" Grace turned, seeing Roe approaching her. "Picked this up for you", he held out an Army-issue scarf in his hands. Lifting her eyes from the olive drab color, Gene's expression only meant one thing: 'it's from _him_'.

Grasping the woolen fabric gently, Grace nodded, "thank you, Gene".

Ooooooooo

Back at company CP on the other end of Easy's line, Lew was talking to Buck.

"Dick has seen it fit to appoint you the head of any and all reconnaissance patrols going out", Lew informed.

"Yes, sir", Buck agreed.

"I'm not sure how many of them they'll be…but there you have it", Lew finished.

"Understood, Nix".

"How you holding up, Buck? How are the men?" Lew inquired after a distracted pause.

Buck considered quickly, "given the circumstances, I would say the men are doing well…as am I". Lew nodded absently, his headache growing as Buck spoke again, "why don't you just ask about her, Nix?"

Lew looked up, obviously caught. He took a breath, resigned, "how is she?"

"She's better now. We're _all_ worried about her…the Toccoa men, Harry, and I. She's put up with a lot, but this is hell on earth, Nix…and Grace…well, she absolutely deserves to be here – but it's hard to watch, you know?"

"Hard to watch?"

"She's just so little compared to us all, even in all the gear – all the men want to protect her". Buck looked at him seriously, "now I haven't spoken of this to anyone, and none of that is affecting how Grace works…"

Lew interrupted him, "I hear you, Buck…and that's not why I'm asking, I've thought everything you have. Now, you said 'she's better now'? What does that mean exactly?"

Buck sighed, "up until a bit ago, Grace was ordered by the C.O. to spend nights in her foxhole alone."

Ooooooooo

After nightfall, Buck had found Grace sitting with Bill and Toye. She was now on her way to Lew; Buck had told her Lewis had sent for her.

She knew why he wanted to see her; she saw the evidence in Buck's eyes: Lew found out about her having been alone in her foxhole before.

Walking up to Lew's well-constructed foxhole, Grace took a deep breath, anticipating another verbal spar.

Having heard her approach, Lew sat up and gently lifted the edge of the tarp draped over his hole. There she was, standing still and looking every bit as small as Buck had noted earlier.

Grace was about to speak when Lew silently opened his arms to her. Biting her lip, she was touched and relieved when she realized he did not expect her to defend herself; he merely smiled tenderly and pulled her into his familiar embrace.

Feeling all of the tension from their long day, the past weeks, her mounting stress at the question of Ron's wellbeing – the relief at simply being held boiled over and she gripped onto Lew, tears rapidly forming. He felt her grip his shoulders as he leaned back into his foxhole, tucking them in; his throat tightened as he held onto her.

"I had to leave Julian", she whispered.

"You had no other choice…you saved the other men today", he assured, as a couple tears skipped down his face, feeling his collar dampen from her tears. "I can't believe you spent so long alone in you foxhole".

Grace had spent the last couple of weeks catching hell from her close group of friends about her orders to remain alone. They had all approached her individually, not wanting to tip Dike off that they knew. She had always echoed the same reason: 'it was a direct order', remaining appreciative yet humbly stoic. Here, with Lew, she was able to come out from hiding.

"I don't know how I did it either", Grace closed her eyes as Lew pressed his lips to her temple.

"Get some sleep, Gracie", he murmured, listening to her breath even and slow after fifteen minutes.

When he had found out Grace's past predicament, Lew had been nearly shaking with anger. He felt responsible…he outranks Dike; she could have come to him, but he understood why she didn't. That did not mean he didn't still feel responsible. He should have looked for her when he began to suspect something was up, when the men closest to her couldn't tell him what foxhole she was in. _Why didn't he try harder? _

Regarding her pale features, he marveled at where they were; the history of their relationship. He would have never guessed this was in their future had you asked him five years ago.

She was still a constant source of surprise for him, having known her from birth. The men, on the other hand, trusted her compulsively – on and off the field; she really no longer took them by surprise. They had grown to expect her courage, tenacity, ferocity, leadership…Lew smirked; Grace did not know it, but the men she was close to had begun to refer to her recently as 'Sparkette'…she and Speirs shared many of the same qualities.

Lewis had grown up with the demure, reserved version of this girl…the girl from his parents' Hampton's summer soirees. She had always been well behaved and immaculate in a party dress; she was and always had been beautiful. Lewis and Chuck were the only two other souls apart from her father who knew she had another side…the girl who could keep up with the boys and hold her whiskey; but this Grace in battle was a sight to behold. If Chuck were around, Lew would bet money that he would require convincing of this changed Grace.

Summer time, holidays, every event was a big one in Nixon, New Jersey – and Lew's parents spared no expense. Although the jewelry and the dress Grace donned were a well-crafted façade, Lewis _had_ always found her beautiful.

It never really hit him until one party…they were young adults; he was dating Kathy at the time. Grace was always just Chuck's sister, one of the guys…but _that_ evening, things shifted.

The party was at the end of the summer, she descended the stairs, trailing behind Lew's sister and mother…Grace had worn an emerald green gown.

He asked her to dance…Lew recalled the decision to be an impulsive one; he also recalled the tugging feeling that he simply _had_ to dance with her.

They had danced before, but _that_ night, it took on a new meaning, a different feeling. Grace had been oblivious to his change.

She smelled like gardenias that night.

Kathy didn't speak to him for a week following that party…two months later, they were engaged.

Looking back down to the young woman in his arms, he knew things could have been very different. Perhaps, however, this was the way things were meant to be.

**Please, please review!**

**HUGE things coming in the near future!**


	32. Chapter 32

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

"_The difficulty is not so great to die for a friend as to find a friend worth dying for" - Homer_

Christmas Eve 1944

"Thanks Joe", Grace smiled to the company cook, "can you pour me one for Doc?" Holding both tin cups of beans and soup close to her chest, Grace nodded her thanks and walked a few yards to Roe. He was sitting up against a tree, still and segregated from the group, "Gene", she urged gently. Wordlessly, he took the soup from her hands without any acknowledgement. Regarding him silently, Grace stood beside the same tree and slowly began eating her soup. Gene had been reserved the past day and a half. He had come back with a chocolate bar…had generously shared a piece with her last night…she asked who he he'd received it from and he grew quiet and contemplative.

She knew the job was grating on him; it was beginning to eat at her and Spina too – up all hours of the night running from hole to hole, always on and alert and present, blood on your hands, the blood of your friends and comrades…it's exhausting. Grace granted him his privacy, but she was concerned about his withdrawal from the group.

Looking up from her place next to Roe, Grace spotted Dick standing along the line of men waiting for their ladle of soup, his eyes were on Roe, contemplative and serious.

Just then, a jeep pulled up to their group, Colonel Sink jumping out and addressing them.

"They're sitting down to a Christmas dinner of turkey and hooch up at division CP, but I'll be Goddamned if I don't like Joe's rancid ass beans better." Making his way over to Dick, Sink nodded to all of them, "hello Easy Company".

"Hello sir", masculine murmurs greeted him.

Sink pulled out a piece of paper and spoke again, "Men!" he quickly located Grace, "and Lieutenant Grant", he added to soft chuckles, "General McAuliffe wishes us all a merry Christmas…what's merry about all this you ask? Just this: we've stopped _cold_ everything that's been thrown at us from the north, east, south, and west". From Sink's side, Dick's gaze once again found Gene, his stare worried now. "Two days ago, the German commander asked for our honorable surrender - save the US troops from total annihilation. The German commander received the following reply: 'To the German commander, NUTS'!" The men smiled and laughed, and the Colonel continued, "we're giving our country and our loved ones at home a worthy Christmas present, and being privileged to take part in this gallant feat of arms, we're truly making for ourselves a merry Christmas." Sink folded up the paper and nodded to them, "merry Christmas to you all and God bless you".

"Merry Christmas, sir", men called out.

"Nuts!" others called and laughed aloud.

Grace smirked at their antics, it was refreshing to see and hear them being their usual boisterous selves, even if it would be short-lived. It had felt like months and months since she'd seen them all laugh so openly. Looking back down to Roe, Grace's heart constricted seeing a far-off and distracted expression on his face. Her eyes traveled down to his hands – his soup was untouched.

Ooooooooo

Their group had gathered in a large foxhole beneath a cluster of mature trees. Jolly old Saint Luz had passed out Lucky Strikes to everyone and they had all shared stories of what their Christmas time rituals were.

Grace had also managed to coax Doc into sitting with them. George and Tab, Lieb, Don, Skip and Penkala and Toye all gathered tightly around for heat.

"I am shaking so goddamned much, I feel like I'm dancing", Penkala said, shivering next to Grace.

"What do you miss most, Gracie?" Skip passed Penkala a cigarette as she squished herself closer to Penk, trying to warm him up.

Grace smirked, "as much as it may surprise you…I kind of miss being a girl".

"And what does that mean?" Penkala asked to the men's sniggering.

"I miss having my hair done for starters…I miss my perfume", she sighed, laughing with them, "I can't even remember how to put garters on anymore".

"Neither can I", Don quipped as everyone hushed their laughter. Grace chanced a look at Gene and was relieved to see him smiling softly.

"Hey Grace", George cooed next to her.

She turned to his oddly excited tone. He held a stick above their heads; a cluster of pine needles crudely tied to the end it, dangling. "What's this?" She asked, and eyebrow quirked.

"Army issued mistletoe", he informed.

The men around them busted into hushed chuckles as Grace shook her head, "you've got to be kidding me".

"Afraid not, Angel…he was working on that piece of crap all day", Tab drawled.

Grace turned to George's hopeful face, inwardly sighing in resignation with a gentle smile on her lips, "only since its Christmas", she whispered as she leaned forward and placed a tender kiss quickly on his lips. She pulled away and smiled at his smug grin.

"Merry Christmas to _me_", he sighed.

"You're shittin' me", Toye whined.

"I can't believe that fuckin' worked", Lieb shook his head.

"Got room for us?" Bill asked quietly approaching with Buck behind him. The group murmured a yes as they shuffled to accommodate two more bodies. Bill leaned down to jump in, whispering in Grace's ear as he did, "Buck's girl dumped him…he just got the letter tonight". Grace bit her lip and looked to Buck, his eyes tight with emotion. Bill's hand guided Buck to sit tightly beside Grace.

Sharing her blanket around Buck's shoulders, Grace offered a smile and discreetly weaving her fingers with his, "hi Buck". He carefully smiled back and squeezed her fingers with his.

"You know any Gaelic songs, Grace?" Don asked.

"Sure I do".

"Well go on then…let's hear it", Bill urged.

"You want me to sing for you?" She asked.

"I've heard you sing, Gracie, and I've also heard Nixon say you can sing", Tab confirmed.

"Consider it a Christmas present, huh?" Buck whispered beside her.

"I'd like to hear that too", Gene offered.

Submitting, Grace nodded, "ok, here goes." She shifted slightly to get comfortable and gently cleared her throat:  
>"Feasgar ciuin an tus a Cheitein<br>Nuar bha 'n ialtag anns na speuran  
>Chualaim ribhinn og 's I deurach<br>Seinn fo sgail nan geugan uain  
>Bha a' ghrain 'sa chuan gu sioldh<br>S result cha d' eirich anns an iarmailt  
>Nuair a sheinn an oigh gu cianail<br>Tha mo ghaol air aird a' chuain

Chiar an latha is dhearrs na reultan  
>Sheol an re measg neul nan speuran<br>Shuidh an oigh bha 'bron 'ga leireadh  
>'S cha robh deigh air tamh no suain<br>Theann mi faisg air result nan og-bhean  
>Sheinn mu 'goal air chuan 'bha seoladh<br>O bu bhinn a caoidhrean bronach  
>Tha mo ghaol air aird 'a chuain<p>

Rinn an ceol le deoin mo thaladh  
>Dluth do ribinn donn nam blath-shul<br>'S I ag urnaigh ris an Ard-Righ  
>Dion mo ghradh th' air aird a' chuain<br>Bha a cridh' le gaol gu sgaineadh  
>Nuair a ghlac mi fhein air laimh i<br>Siab do dheoir, do ghoal tha sabhailt  
>Thill mi slan bharr aird a' chuain".<p>

Silence greeted her at first, and having closed her eyes before she began, she peeked slowly at their reactions. Thankfully, all their faces radiated calmness; Grace felt herself sigh in relief.

"That was really good, Grace", Toye husked softly.

"Beautiful", Don agreed.

"I didn't know you could sing", Lieb said.

"Thank you Angel", Buck whispered.

Grace smiled, "happy Christmas boys".

Ooooooooo

An hour so later, Grace bid the boys adieu to go and find Lewis.

Paying a visit to his foxhole, she found him wrapped up.

"Lew", she called out, wondering if he was awake.

"Grace…it's too early to open Christmas presents", he joked as he sat up.

She smiled and slid down into the hole beside him, "I came to wish you a happy Christmas". From her inside pocket on her jacket, she produced her small flask.

Lew's eyes bugged out of his head, "what's that?"

Grinning, Grace unscrewed the cap, "there's not that much…but I managed to hold onto a bit of the Vat…just in case."

Lew shook his head, "it's a miracle you didn't drink it".

"It's a damn Christmas miracle, Lew", she agreed as she handed it to him.

"Slainte", he toasted as he took a gulp and handed it back, "there's one more swig in there for you".

Grace threw the rest of the contents back and swallowed a moan from the perfect warmth that made its way down to her belly. Screwing the lid back on, Grace took a deep breath, "do you smell that?"

Ooooooo

Lew and Grace made their way to their battalion CP - where Harry and Peacock were. Kneeling down beside them was Dick…and in front of all three of them was a small fire.

"I swore I thought I could smell a fire", Grace said as they approached their trio.

"You _did_ smell a fire", Lew quipped, kneeling down with her, "are you out of your mind?"

Unmoving, Dick clarified, "well, we're in a dell".

Lew looked at him in question, "huh?"

VOOM!

Suddenly, overhead, an incoming shell deployed.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Behind them in the distance, the forest was hit, lighting up the trees.

"Get the fire!" Dick cried as they all dove for cover.

Grace kicked dirt and snow over the fire as Dick grabbed her and threw her down near a tree, throwing himself over her.

"Ugh! God! Ahhhhh!" Harry screamed near them, having been hit.

"Harry!", Grace called crawling from under Dick to him, her helmet falling off. Their position was getting zeroed in on as shrubs and trees exploded around them. Pulling her medic bag to her, Grace knelt down in front of Harry, "I got you, Harry, I'm right here!"

Lew picked up the radio, "this is Captain Lewis Nixon, I need aid to second battalion CP!"

"Arrrghhhhhhh!" Harry moaned in pain, his eyes wildly searching hers.

"Stay still, Harry", Dick urged as Grace ripped his right pant leg. Harry had been hit in the thigh by shrapnel.

"I need Roe, he's got morphine", Grace relayed to Dick calmly as Harry tried to grasp her hands. Grace wound an extra shoelace around his thigh above the wound. Grabbing a stick nearby, she made a knot, slipping the stick through the hole; she began twisting the stick, effectively pulling the shoelace to produce the right pressure to slow the bleeding. Using Harry's discarded scarf, Grace wiped off the extra blood, then she poured on the sulfa powder.

"MEDIC!" Dick yelled out immediately.

"Harry, stay calm…I've got you, you're gonna be fine buddy", Grace said, nodding to Harry's anxious face. Discarding the sulfa package, Grace grabbed a bandage from her pack and wrapped his thigh up tight; hoping Gene would get to them soon, before Harry passed out from pain.

"It's just a scratch, Harry, you're not getting out of here that easy", Lew quipped, kneeling beside Harry's head.

"Roe!" Dick called, Grace turned, seeing Gene run up to them and stop.

Beneath her soaked hands, Harry writhed, in pain. When Roe didn't make to come to her, Grace spoke in a serious voice, "Gene". Suddenly snapping out of his trance, he lunged forward to her, as she tied the bandage down expertly. "Morphine", she demanded, "opposite thigh".

"AHH!" Harry cried as Roe leaned forward and swiftly stuck Harry in his other thigh. "Ahh..ohhh", he sighed.

"Elevate his head", Grace bent towards Harry, her fingers coated in his blood, she marked an 'M' for 'morphine' on his forehead. Standing up, Dick, Lew and Grace carried Harry to the aid jeep nearby. Breathing deeply, Grace locked eyes with Dick then looked over worriedly to Gene. Dick walked over to him, still kneeling in the snow and blood and spoke quietly. Grace turned back to Harry, lying on the stretcher.

"Thanks Gracie-bird", he whispered, his breathing labored.

She shook her head as she brushed dirt from his hair and face, "it's alright Welshy…you're gonna be ok."

Gene patted Grace on the back as he slid into the jeep and it took off, driving back down the road to Bastogne.

OOOOOOOO

January 1945 Ardennes Forest

After holding the line at Bastogne, Easy Company was once again called upon to push the Germans out of the bulge. In the passing days since Christmas, Lieutenant Dike was even more absent than usual. With Easy now in an offensive position, leadership was essential. No commanding officer and lacking platoon leaders meant Buck, Grace, and Lip – along with the trusted NCO's – were calling the shots.

Buck, Lip and Grace stood in front of a map of the woods that was balanced on Don's back, Bill leaning in next to them. Grace pointed to the mar near the town of Foy, "we were here this morning…and then we moved this way".

"Alright, so here's got to be the road where they're at leading into here…" Buck said.

"Yes sir", Lip confirmed.

"Which means we gatta go right _there_", Buck jabbed the map, poking Don in the neck.

"Hey!" Don exclaimed, "take it easy!"

"Stop cryin' Malark, or I'll nail it to your head", Buck sassed.

"You should", Bill teased, "it's made of wood anyway".

"Guarnere, move 'em out", Buck instructed.

"Yes sir…second platoon! Let's go!"

Oooooooo

After clearing one thousand yards in the Bois Jacques woods near the town of Foy, Easy Company settled down in their new location…digging in and reinforcing their holes.

Grace walked the location with Buck, trying to find Dike. Buck needed to report to him and Grace just needed to look busy. She was still under orders to sleep alone, and having already dug her own foxhole for show…she was buying time until they knew where Dike was so she could settle down with someone else.

"There's Lip…he might know where he went off to", Grace suggested.

Buck nodded as they made their way to Lip, helping Shifty dig in. Hoobler smiled and nodded to them as they passed, "did you hear about Hoob's luger?"

Grace smirked, "who hasn't? The kid's a good shot".

"Hey Lip, you got a second?" Buck called to Lipton.

"Yeah", he said, walking to them.

"Where's Dike?" Buck asked, as Grace registered how sick she was of those two words.

"He's uh…he's around", Lip offered.

"Could you be a little more specific there Sergeant?" Buck prodded.

"Not really, sir".

"Goddamnit I haven't seen him all day", Buck lamented quietly.

"We didn't see him at all coming through the woods", Grace added.

"Yes, and I have to know how we ended up", Buck finished.

"Uh…two", Lip shared. Buck and Grace stopped walking, flabbergasted no one told them.

"Who?" Grace asked.

"Brown and Stevens", Lip answered.

Goddamnit", Buck shook his head.

"Where's Dike, where is he?" Grace wondered aloud.

"Where the hell does he ever go?" Buck nodded.

Don chimed in from his hole, "I don't know, but I wish he'd stay the hell there".

"It'd be nice if he took Lieutenant Shames with him too", Shifty agreed.

"Shut up boys", Lip hushed them as Buck sniggered.

"Shutting up, Sarge", Don agreed.

POP!

A lone bullet pierced the otherwise quiet day; Buck and Lip pulled Grace into Don's foxhole and shoved her in the middle – Buck, Lip, Don, and Shifty all pointing their rifles in different directions. It was moments like this, without a weapon, where she felt absolutely helpless and worthless.

"What the hell was that?" Lip called.

"Patrol?" Don asked.

"No, we would have heard", Grace clarified, their controlled breathing the only sound around them now.

"One man…maybe a sniper?" Buck questioned.

"That was no rifle", Shifty said confidently.

"What do you see, Shift?" Grace asked.

"Nobody out there".

"Are you sure?" Buck said.

"Uh huh".

Hashey suddenly yelled out, "oh Jesus…it's Hoob, he's shot!"

Grace moved to jump up but Lip held onto her jacket, "sniper?", Buck called.

"No, no….he…he shot himself!" Hashey hollered back.

"Let's go, let's go!" Grace urged, throwing herself out of their hole, the boys on her heels.

"Medic!" Perco yelled as Grace neared them.

"What happened?" Buck demanded.

Grace lunged down to Hoob, "where you hit, Hoob?"

"He did what? What happened?" Buck asked again.

"I didn't mean to…it just went off", Hoob struggled, writhing on the ground as Lip took the luger from his pocket.

"What are you doing with a luger in your pants?" Buck said, frustrated.

"Get his jacket off, I need to see where he's hit", Grace ordered as she looked back up to Hoob, "hey, hey Hoob…we've got you, ok? We're gonna fix this".

"I'm sorry, Gracie…it was an accident", he cried

"We're all right here, you're ok", she said, her eyes searching for his wound. "Where are you hit, Hoob? Where are you hit?"

"In my leg", he groaned.

Lip passed her scissors and she cut his pants, ripping all the layers to get to the hole. "Ah…don't look, Hoob, you're gonna be alright", Buck insisted.

"I….ahh….shhhhiitt", Hoob gasped as Grace tried to get to his skin. "It hurts like a son of a bitch…I think I hit bone".

Grace began breathing harder as she ripped his pants, finally seeing the bullet hole. She knew the wound was near the main artery…if she couldn't get to it and make sure it got pinched to cease blood flow, Hoob would bleed out in minutes. "Stay still for me, Hoob…I need you to stay awake and stay still".

"You're gonna be alright, Hoob", Perco nodded to him from his side.

"Warm him up", Lip suggested.

"No", Grace said, her fingers searching inside him for the artery, "I need his body to stay cool…it makes the blood pump slower…" breathing hard, she pushed her fingers up further, trying to feel for the artery…

"Hang in there, Hoob", Lip urged.

"It's gonna be alright, Hoob, it's gonna be alright", Don said.

"You said I was a great shot, right?" Hoob said to Lip.

"You are buddy, you're a great shot", Lip nodded.

"Come on Hoob, you jump outta planes – you're tough, you're tough", Buck said.

"Stay with us…you're gonna be fine", Hashey called to Hoob.

"How we doing, Gracie?" Buck demanded.

"I can't see a thing", Grace whispered to Lip, clenching her teeth as she tried to stop the bleeding. She applied more pressure above the wound, hoping it would buy her time and slow blood flow so she could grab a hold of the artery before it shrunk away. She could hear Hoob begin to struggle, his body twitching beneath her hands; the men's voices were urgent and stressed around her, pressing her to fix him…help him…keep him…keep him with us.

"Grace…" Buck said.

Breathing from her efforts, Grace shook her head, whispering, "I can't _see_ anything".

"Grace!" Buck called to her, making her freeze and look up from her work. Her breath catching at his serious expression, her eyes dropped down to Hoob and she let out her breath shakily as she recognized his stilled features. Looking back up to Buck, Grace held his eyes painfully as she slipped her fingers from Hoob. "Perco, I need a jeep", Buck muttered.

Grace leaned back, slumping to the ground as Hashey and Perco covered Hoob up with his coat. Her throat tight, her eyes stinging from unshed tears, Grace pressed her lips together as she placed her bloodied hands onto the white snow.

Oooooooo

"He was wearing so many clothes; I didn't know how bad he was bleeding. By the time they got him to the aid station, he was already dead. The bullet cut the main artery in his leg", Grace reported to Dick and Lew, her head aching.

"Jesus Grace", Lew offered, "it wouldn't have made a difference if you had known…you cut that main artery in the leg…and that's it".

Grace nodded, "yeah….well, I'm going to go back…and make sure all the boys are dug in". At their silence, she put her helmet back on and made her way out.

"Grace?" Dick called, "Where's Dike?"

Grace felt like an idiot for not knowing where her C.O. was, "you…you want to see him, sir?"

"No, I just would have expected to get this kind of news from him", Dick responded, shivering from the cold.

Grace considered telling him that she had no fucking clue _where _he was…that no one ever did. But what would that accomplish? Dike wasn't going anywhere, "well, I was there…I figured it might as well be me."

Ooooooo

Since Dike had taken over, Grace stripped of her platoon and weapon, and they'd been in Belgium, Grace had been removed from any actual participation in patrol maneuvers and planning. She was still a Lieutenant, so she was present for these meetings, but Dike had made it very clear she was not to talk or add to the conversation at all. She was there purely because of her rank.

It would have been bad at any stage of the war to have an inept C.O., but of all battles to endure this with one, Grace was sure this was the worst-case scenario.

"…I want tight security around company CP, Lieutenant Shames, is that understood?" Dike spoke to the group of Easy Lieutenants plus First Sergeant Lipton. "Now battalion S-3 is planning a move…so I will probably be called away regularly. Are there any questions?"

"Uh…yeah", Buck said bluntly from Grace's right, "uh…what's the formation you're wanting us to go for?"

Dike paused for a second, "at present, as per usual, but I'll clarify that with you at a later…time, Lieutenant Compton".

"Yes, sir", Buck answered dryly.

Pausing again, Lieutenant Dike suddenly yawned, closing his eyes. Disbelieving, Grace's eyes floated to the ground. Recovering Dike nodded, "alright, I gatta go make a call", he announced, stalking off.

The group of them stood and watched as Dike meandered aimlessly away from the line. "I don't know what the hell that was about", Shames muttered.

"Let's move it out", Buck ordered.

Lip and Grace walked in the rear of the group. "Do you ever get the feeling that Easy is an annoyance to him?" Grace asked Lip as they walked, "just something he's got to get through before he can move on…keep going up the ladder?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case", Lip agreed.

Ooooooooo

"He had a goddamned luger in his pants", Buck expressed, sitting on the side of the foxhole. Grace was with Babe and Bill, helping them reinforce their foxhole when Buck came by, preaching the precautionary tale of Hoob and his luger.

"Jesus", Bill said, glancing at Grace. Bill knew this story…but Buck needed to know they were listening.

"God, I know", Buck nodded, "now don't you two go and do something stupid like that".

"We'll try not to, Buck", Babe agreed.

"I mean it", Buck insisted, "and you…Gracie-bird…I've invested too much time shaping you into something irreplaceable." From beside her, Bill sniggered to Babe, "you go and do something crazy, taking yourself out of this thing…"

"I know", Grace started, "you'll kill me".

Buck winked and nodded at her, "Even if you're dead, I'll still kill you, Angel". He nodded and got up, "I'll see you guys later, I'm gonna go check up on the other guys".

Grace sat down next to Bill, as Babe watched Buck go, "crazy Joe McKlosky".

"Who?" Grace frowned.

"This guy who used to hang at the front of this store, Delancy's…and just stare at people".

"I know who crazy Joe McKlosky is", Bill said, "what the hell's that got to do with anything, Babe?"

"Buck kind of reminds me of him now", Babe clarified.

"What?" Grace asked.

"You know, ever since he got shot in Holland…"

"Wait, wait, wait", Bill began, "you mean he's nuts? They called him crazy Joe, Babe, because crazy Joe was fuckin' nuts".

"I'm not saying he's nuts…I'm sayin'", Babe stuttered.

"What? What are you saying?" Grace urged him on.

"Forget it…ah…come on guys, you've seen him – he's all wound up like a spring", Babe confessed.

"Hey, hey…he's fine", Bill looked Babe square in the eyes.

"It wasn't being shot that got him…it was being in that hospital", Grace offered. "I've been there…you have too Bill".

Bill nodded, "I have…and it 'aint pretty. I'm telling you…Buck Compton's fine".

Babe nodded, his worry quelled for the time being…but Grace kept her mouth shut about him being _fine_. She had been worried about Buck since they shipped out to Bastogne. He was still the competent and trustworthy combat leader…completely capable…but in the back of her mind, Grace always made herself present for Buck in case something occurred. Not only was he one of Grace's best friends, but he was the last leader in power that Easy had.

Oooooooooo

"Hey Gracie…fellas, look who I found!" Bill called out to everybody as they were getting chow.

"Hey! Joe Toye – back for more", George announced.

"How's the arm, Joe?" Grace asked, eyeing him.

"Just fine, Gracie", Joe smirked at her, knowing she was being over protective.

"Where'd you get hit?" Web, the replacement asked.

Joe looked him over, "what's that?"

Skip shrugged, "eh, that's Web…replacement".

"Really", Joe began, "I thought it was some guy that I'd known for two years and I forgot his face".

"Joe got hit in the arm", Grace answered Web, "New Year's eve gift…from the Luftwaffe".

"A lot of you guys been injured?" Web asked.

Johnny huffed behind him, causing Grace to smirk, "it's called 'wounded', peanut… 'injured' is when you fall out of a tree".

Skip turned around to him, "don't worry…there's enough crap laying around here you're bound to get dinged sometime. Almost every single one of these guys have been hit at least once…" he pointed, "Now Alley here is a two-timer, Bull got a piece of exploding tank in Holland, and George Luz here has never been hit…you're one lucky bastard".

George winked at Grace then looked back at Skip, "takes one to know one, Skip".

"Eh, consider us blessed", Skip shrugged, "now Liebgott…that skinny little guy, got hit in the neck in Holland; right next to him that other skinny little guy is Popeye – he got shot in his scrawny little butt in Normandy. And Buck Compton got shot in his rather large butt in Holland". Grace laughed as Buck turned around and pointed to his ass.

"It's kind of an Easy Company tradition, being shot in the ass", Penkala said beside Grace.

Skip pointed to Grace, "now Lieutenant Grant here…showed up in Toccoa with a bullet wound from North Africa…it both impressed _and_ scared the hell out of us, 'aint that right, Gracie?"

Grace winked, "that is correct, Skip"

"Even First Sergeant Lipton over there", Skip continued, "he got a couple pieces of a tank burst in Carentan…one chunk in the face, another chunk almost took out his nuts".

"How are those nuts, Sarge?" Bill inquired.

"Doin' fine Bill", Lip laughed, "nice of you to ask."

Ooooooooo

A few days later, Easy was moved back to their old location overlooking the town of Foy in preparation for the impending attack.

A group of the Easy gunners were attached to Dog Company for a couple days to hold the main line of resistance.

Ordered to be the point-person as the go-between for the gunners, Grace was to hang back in the rear and make sure the gunners were all dug in and that the rest of the men were on the right path to their old position. Normally, a platoon leader would have the responsibility, but with Peacock on furlough, Dike gave Grace the task.

There was a buzz about the assignment in general that had set Grace's blood aflame…Ronald Speirs. He had made a name for himself, and though no one really knew the legitimacy of Ron and Grace's relationship, they certainly did not need that scandal to feed the gossip when it came to Speirs; the men had been talking about him since Toccoa.

Being the point-person meant she was to report to the nearest officer should something arise…the nearest one was Lieutenant Speirs. Grace hadn't seen Ron since they moved out to the Ardennes

Walking next to George and Bill, Grace saw the foxhole with Perconte, Christianson, and Web…those were they guys she needed to check on.

Stepping to the side to stay in the rear, George muttered to her as he walked by, "don't stay and visit too long, Gracie…" Grace glared at him playfully as he chuckled and winked.

"Been nice knowin' ya", Toye smirked to the men as he walked by.

"I wouldn't drink too much if I were you", Moore drawled.

Grace pressed her lips together and looked down to her men…Perconte was vigorously brushing his teeth as usual, Christianson was smirking knowingly, and Web was looking up at the passing men in confusion. From her position in the rear, she could see it all.

"Hey, be careful if he offers you a cigarette", Don grinned as he skipped by, his weapon held out in front of them.

Grace bit her cheek as Christianson and Perco laughed, "if who offers us a cigarette?" Web asked.

"Speirs", Christianson answered.

"Who?"

"Lieutenant Speirs", he said again as Grace walked behind and past them and beyond some trees, making sure all the men had gone where they needed to go, "the stories about Speirs are all bullshit anyway".

"What stories?" she heard Web inquire, "what stories?"

Turning back to the three gunners, she saw Perco peer over to where she should be…and obviously not seeing her, told Web, "well, supposedly Speirs shot one of his own Sergeants for being drunk".

Grace rolled her eyes at Web's astonishment – the tale never ceased to entertain, "you're kidding…that's unbelievable".

"Yeah", Christianson said, putting together the gun, "there's another one that says Speirs gave cigarettes to twenty German P.O.W.'s before killing them".

Walking out of the tree line and back to them, Grace made eye contact with Perco. She quirked her eyebrow and his eyes went wide, realizing she'd heard everything they said. Web was hooked, "he killed twenty P.O.W.'s?"

Shaking her head, Grace caught sight of Ron methodically making his way to the gunners' position. Her heart sped up at the sight of his figure, she smirked, speaking up as his intense, and familiar gaze landed on the men, "actually, I heard it was more like thirty". Web and Christianson's faces snapped to hers, startled. "You guys should reinforce your cover", she suggested before Ron walked up.

"Lieutenant Grant", Ron addressed her, his eyes still focused on the men and Grace realized just how much she had missed his voice. In their foxhole, the men flinched a bit at his sudden presence.

"Lieutenant Speirs", she said back. She only had to say his name and she could hear the intimacy coloring her tone…with him a 'hello' would forever sound like 'come here'.

"Christianson", Ron called out.

"Lieutenant Speirs", Christianson greeted.

"I got the name right…Christianson", Ron clarified as he knelt by their foxhole.

"Yes sir".

"What are these men doing out here, Lieutenant?" Ron asked, looking down over their hole.

Grace kept her face neutral, trying to hide a smirk. She knew he was aware of their orders…she also knew he had to have overheard the idiots talking about him and wanted to exercise his intimidation factor, "they're here to watch the MLR, Lieutenant", she answered.

Ron nodded, "well then men, keep up the good work…and while you're at it, you might want to reinforce your cover".

Perco looked to Grace then back to Ron, "well actually, sir, Lieutenant Dike said not to bother…that we're only gonna be here a couple days".

"Lieutenant Dike said that, huh?" Ron said, shrugging, "…well then forget what I said". Fixing the three of them with a measured stare, he added, "carry on". As Grace was about to follow him to get to the rest of Easy, he turned around, "oh…anyone care for a smoke?" Biting her lip, her eyes skipped to Christianson, Web, and Perco who shook their heads and remained silent.

Ron had kept his eyes on the men up until that moment…he looked to her and she smirked, "may I?" She could practically hear the men's jaws dropping as she walked forward and took two cigarettes from Ron, putting one to her lips and one tucked behind her ear, "I owe you". Holding her gaze with an intrigued look, Ron gave her a light. Grace took a drag, having to get used to the burn; she hadn't had a cigarette in a while. She turned to her men, "I'll be back to check on you tomorrow at 1400…same time the next day. If you need me, Perco, call Luz".

"You got Lieutenant", Perco said, his eyes darting in between Grace and Ron.

"I'll walk you back to your line", Ron offered as they turned, walking forward to Easy.

Grace was suddenly relieved to have a small distraction in the thin cigarette between her fingers…the sound of their boots on the snow was completely muffled by her heart in her ears. "I assume you heard all of that?" She asked casually.

"I did", he answered.

"You know how the men perceive you?" she wondered.

"I do", he nodded, hoping Grace didn't think of him like the rest of them. "Does it bother you?...the stories".

"No".

Ron nodded, his heart warming over as they walked toward Easy's line. Stealthily, he appraised her figure, "how have you been?"

Easy came into view and Grace's steps faltered. Stopping beside a tree, she turned to Ron, wanting desperately to have a few more moments with him before they had to part. "We've got supplies now, winter clothing…so I'm good." His eyes bore into hers tenderly as she smiled softly, "thank you for the scarf, the blanket…you shouldn't have done that", she whispered, her eyes darting over to Easy to check they hadn't been spotted.

His expression hardened softly as he spoke, "well _you _shouldn't have gone without a foxhole buddy. I could kill Dike for that."

Inching toward him, Grace's fingers reached out and gently pulled his coat lapels tighter around him, "how have _you_ been?"

At his silence, Grace looked up. His green eyes melted the ice all over her body and she let go of a breath she didn't realize she had been holding for weeks, "I'm much better now".

Ron's chest was tight as he leaned forward and tugged her scarf up and around her. She smiled softly again at him, her dimples making his heart throb. "I need to go", she whispered.

He nodded reluctantly, his fingers tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "stay safe for me".

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**STAY TUNED…Big chapter coming up next.**

**Song sung by Julie Fowlis, "Tha Mo Ghaol Air A' Chuain" – it's really beautiful, go check it out on youtube. Translation:  
><strong>On a quiet evening at the beginning of May  
>When the bat was in the skies<br>I heard a tearful young maiden  
>Singing beneath the shadow of the green branches<br>The sun was setting in the sea  
>And no stars yet graced the sky<br>When the young girl sang sorrowfully  
>'My love is on the high seas'<p>

Day darkened and the stars shone  
>Setting their course amongst the clouds<br>The maiden sat, burdened by her sadness  
>Her singing could not have been more soothing<br>I moved closer to the young woman  
>Singing of her love sailing on the sea<br>Oh sweet was her sad lament  
>'My love is on the high seas'<p>

The music enticed me  
>Nearer to the brown-haired maiden with warm eyes<br>And she prayed to the King of Heaven  
>'Protect my love on the high seas'<br>Her heart was breaking with love  
>When I took her by the hand<br>'Wipe your eyes, your love is safe  
>I have returned to you from the high seas'<p> 


	33. Chapter 33

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

_I love you more than words can wield the matter;  
>Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty;<br>As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found;  
>A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;<br>Beyond all manner of so much I love you.  
>-W. SHAKESPEARE<em>

January 1945

While Easy had been in the Bois Jacques, the Germans had been shelling their old location…there were signs of tree bursts everywhere; Grace swallowed her heart in her throat as she took notice. There was no way the krauts were giving up yet…even if the allies had the advantage at this stage.

Grace relieved Christianson, Perconte, and Web at the MLR a day earlier, and she hadn't run into Ron since she had seen him last time. Those ten minutes maximum that she'd spent with him forty-eight hours ago had reawakened her heart, and she missed him terribly once again. The cold wasn't cold enough to freeze her heart over this time; it didn't hurt that she still had _his_ scarf wound warmly around her neck.

While she was securing the MLR a few days before, the men had pushed through and cleared out all their old foxholes. Sitting beside George at the OP hole, Grace picked up the binoculars and studied the small village of Foy in front of them.

Directly in front of their position was a clear field, dotted by large stacks of hay. Beyond the hay stood brick buildings and a wooden barn; their brown roofs blanketed by thick snow. German troops were plainly visible – running to and fro…their artillery was hidden away from view.

Nerves were for rookies, for replacements…they had no place in battle and no place with a seasoned paratrooper such as Lieutenant Grace Grant…but viewing _that_ town, as well protected as it was, Easy was going to have quite a fight on its hands to secure it. Placing the binoculars back on the ground of the foxhole, Grace took a deep breath; with Foxhole Norman as C.O. and leading the men into the fray…he was going to get a lot of Easy men killed.

"Grace", Buck called, gathered in a group with Lip, Shames, and Peacock.

She nodded, "I'll be back later, Georgie".

"You got it, Gracie", George winked back.

"Looks like the krauts have been pounding this area…pretty big stuff…eighty-eights", Lip said to the group as Grace approached.

"I'd say they got this _whole_ stretch of the line targeted", Grace agreed.

Shames shrugged, "well they're not shelling now…maybe they've got a new target".

"No, they're just waiting", Lip said gravely.

"For what?" Shames asked.

"For us to reoccupy the position", Buck answered.

"Maybe we should fall back to a different location", Peacock offered.

Grace shook her head, "no, it's our job to hold the line here". She sighed and looked around, "we got pretty good foxholes, we just have to fortify the covers".

"If they've got us targeted…" Shames started.

"We hold the line here", Buck interrupted, "Lieutenant Grant's right. We're gonna strengthen our covers and we're gonna hang in…we're _not_ gonna fall back". He looked over to Dike, who was standing yards away, completely removed from the conversation, "right Lieutenant?"

Dike, reacting as if Buck had startled him from a daydream, looked over, "hmm?"

Grace's blood ran hot with anger at his aloofness as Buck simply held a thumbs up and smiled, "right, Lieutenant?"

"Fine…you all take care it", he looked to his watch, "I gatta go talk to regiment", with that, he stalked off.

Buck turned back around to their little group, all their faces searching one another's in disbelief as Lip spoke, "we better get moving".

Grace watched Lip, Shames, and Peacock walk away, "Buck?" She regarded him with a serious face, "…what are we gonna do with him? When we have to take the men into Foy?"

Buck shook his head, "I don't know…but we'll get through it".

Ooooooo

As much as Grace didn't like monotony, she did harbor an appreciation for physical repetition. A small army hatchet in hand, she chopped methodically at the stack of branches in front of her, enjoying the exertion.

"She may not have a gun, but this girl is lethal with a hatchet", Don drawled.

"You got that right, Malark…she's a regular Jack-the-Ripper", Bill chuckled, sorting through a large stack of uncut tree branches.

Grace laughed, sniffling, "thanks boys". Coughing slightly, she sniffled again.

"Jesus, you getting sick?" Bill inquired, putting a branch down.

Grace shrugged, "ah, it's nothing…"

Bill walked to her and held his hand out, "gimme that, let me chop now…you stack the branches, huh?"

"Yeah, Bill…real gentlemanly of you to let her chop all this time with a cold", Don sniggered from beside them, ceasing his chopping.

"Shut up Malark".

"It's alright Bill…it's the same cold everyone else had", Grace brushed off, stopping her movements to wipe her pink nose, "I'm just getting it late". She smiled at him, "serves me right…I gatta stop kissing all the boys", she joked.

"Ha, very funny, Angel", Bill winked.

"INCOMING!" Lip screamed, the sound of shells whizzing overhead drowning out his call.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Dirt began exploding in columns, dotting across their position.

"They've got us zeroed!" Buck yelled.

"Find some cover!" Grace called out. Running beside Don and Bill to the cluster of foxholes, Grace continued to call to men who were out in the open, "find cover!"

The ground shook beneath their feet as flames and smoke billowed around them; dirt, ice, and shrapnel from the trees exploded as Bill grabbed Grace's hand. Nearing a foxhole, Bill pushed Grace in first, following behind her, with Don jumping in last.

Barrages were terrifying. The days were constantly overcast and dim which made the flashes of the explosions brighter, throwing the entire environment into a horror-movie-like film set. Flying debris from the trees were just as lethal as bullets and any moment a shell could make a direct landing on top of you.

There was nothing to do but hold tight and ride it out.

Crouching in their half-reinforced foxhole, Grace clutched Bill's jacket lapels to her face, waiting for the shelling to end…and any screams of 'medic' to follow.

Hollow silence…nothing but the 'whoooo' of the shallow wind.

Grace held her breath, feeling Bill do the same.

The three of them sat up slowly, peeking out, "maybe we should see if anybody's hit", Don suggested.

"Nah, Malark, that's what they want", Bill declared.

"They'll try and draw us out in the open", Grace shook her head, her ears straining for any signs of someone hurt.

A few moments of silence stretched on, their shaky breathing the only interruption.

Suddenly, the sound of a man's strangled and struggling voice reached them.

"You hear that?" Don asked.

"I need help…" the voice said, echoing amongst the shredded trees.

"Is that Joe?" Bill looked out into the scattered debris.

"Yeah, I think that's Joe", Grace choked, lunging up, her medic bag in her grip.

Immediately, Don held her to him, "no."

"Let me go", she requested evenly.

"No", he shook his head.

"Don…"

"You're not going anywhere, Gracie", Bill said.

"He could need help…he needs me", Grace insisted, her heart pounding in her ears.

"Stay", Bill demanded, crawling out of the hole and running to Joe's voice.

"Bill!" Grace hissed, "Jesus Christ…"

"STAY DOWN! STAY DOWN!" Buck's voice screamed out to everyone.

Grace's eyes searched in a frenzy, trying to see any sign of Bill or Joe running back to them, "where are they?"

"I can't see anything", Don breathed behind her.

"I'm going to them", Grace said, turning around, "they need me, Don….let go", she urged gently. Nodding, Don let go around her waist and Grace sprang forward, heading in the direction of where Bill ran off to. "Bill?!" she called out, unable to locate them…the scenery had been changed dramatically.

"Grace!" Buck yelled to her, "come here!"

"Where the hell is Bill?"

THUMP THUMP THUMP

Grace knew the sounds of shells being fired again.

"INCOMING!" Buck yelled out.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

The tattered forest flashed and shook again as the shells pounded their line. Throwing himself to her, Buck yanked Grace to him as they ran forward to an unfinished foxhole.

As they stumbled into it, Grace caught sight of Bill holding Joe under his arms and dragging him, "BILL!" she yelled.

Buck saw them too, and as they landed in the foxhole, Grace made to run to them. Buck held her to him, debris and dirt flying up everywhere, "COME ON! COME ON!" Buck called out, beckoning Bill to move faster.

Grace saw the line and pattern in which the shells were targeting, Bill was right in the line of fire, "MOVE BILL! COME ON!"

With Bill struggling to move faster, Buck stood up about to run to them, Grace following him, "I'm coming!"

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Dirt flew up around Bill, blocking him from their view, "BILL!" Grace screamed.

"NOOOO!" Buck hollered.

BOOM!

Another shell hit close by, knocking Grace into Buck, both of them falling back into the foxhole.

The shelling finally ceased seconds later, and Grace's ears were ringing. Her adrenaline pumping, she pushed away from Buck and threw herself in Bill and Joe's direction.

She didn't have to run far.

Both of them lay sprawled on the reddened snow, twisted beside one another, feet from Grace and Buck.

Shaking and horrified for one second, Grace paused and stared, gazing at her comrades' motionless forms, each one had lost a leg.

"Me…Med…MEDIC!" Buck's terrified scream jolted her into action.

Grace lunged forward, her medic bag already open as Roe ran into the small clearing with her, reaching Joe as Grace knelt beside Bill. Throwing her helmet off, Grace gently helped Roe pull Joe off of Bill and sit them beside one another; Bill up against a tree and Joe lying on the ground.

Her eyes wide on Bill's slack face, she checked he was breathing…he was, he hadn't come-to yet. Ghosting her hands over his chest, shoulders, stomach and checking for any other injury, she settled on his mangled right leg. He would lose it; there was too much damage. Pulling a large bandage from her pack, all she could do was stop the bleeding and save him from bleeding out.

"Gracie?"

Sobering instantly at his hoarse voice, she looked up, "Bill".

"Jesus…Grace…" his breathing began to pick up as his eyes dropped down to the red bandage tight around his splintered shin.

"Hey, hey…look at me, I've got you, Bill, ok? You stay with me and listen to my voice", she cooed, soothingly at him. Wiping her hands on her pants, she scooted up to his hip, pulled out a syrette and swiftly stuck him. He relaxed at once and she placed a hand on his stubbled cheek, "you're ok, Bill, you're alright…." She searched his eyes, relief flooding her that he was alive. Looking over to her right, she caught Roe patching up Toye, who was conscious as well. They were both going home.

"Gracie-bird", Grace snapped her head to Bill, "you got a cigarette?" Nodding, Grace quickly produced a cigarette and placed it to Bill's lips, rapidly giving him a light.

"How you doin', Doc?" Grace asked to Roe.

"We're ok over here, Lieutenant", he answered as Don walked up, his eyes darting around.

"You gotta smoke?" Joe asked Don who knelt beside him in a strained voice. "Jesus…what's a guy gotta do to get killed around here?"

Feeling Bill begin to shake beneath her fingers, Grace looked back to him – his eyes were on his shin. "Bill…" she said softly, his darkened and frightened eyes seeking hers, "keep breathing…keep your eyes on me". Nodding to her, he reached up and squeezed her hand as her other hand dragged gently down his face, "you're going home".

"Over here!" Roe called out, "take this man".

Grace helped the men from the battalion aid station lift Bill onto the stretcher.

"Hey Lip", Bill called over Grace's shoulder, "they got old Guarnere this time". Cringing as they picked him up, Bill turned his face to her and spoke quietly, "you tell Sparky you love him, Grace." Swiftly, he was carried away, as he passed Toye, he quipped, "hey Joe, I told you I'd beat you back to the states".

Shifting to her knees, Grace took a deep breath – the last few minutes suddenly catching up with her.

"Hey Lip", George said, nearing them. Grace looked up to him as he paused, seeing her face and Joe's missing leg.

Toye was picked up and carried away as Grace stood up, walking with Lip to George, "how's Buck?" she asked George. He was unresponsive, his big eyes following Toye.

"Luz…how's Buck?" Lip asked.

George looked back to them, his breath shaky, "he's fine".

"You sure?" Lip said.

"Yeah, he's fine", George turned and looked back, "…you should probably go talk to him now, huh?"

Looking beyond George, Grace's broken heart crumbled further. Buck sat alone on a fallen tree, his helmet on the snow beside him, his head in his hands. Wordlessly, Grace walked forward, her own helmet and medic pack forgotten on the stained ground.

She stopped in front of him, her breath becoming staggered as she slowly realized what had just happened, that Bill and Joe were gone…as she looked upon this man, who was broken from witnessing all of this. Sensing her there, Buck slowly lifted his head, his glassy, red-rimmed eyes landing on hers. Her stomach fell through her body, seeing the lost, scared, hopeless look in him.

She knew then that she had just lost Buck to this war too.

Kneeling down on the snow between Buck's knees, Grace put her arms around his shoulders and pulled him to her; her palms pressing down on his back, keeping him against her and feeling him tremble. Hot tears rolled down her face as Buck's arms wrapped tight around her frame, enveloping her into his chest.

"Grace…" he whispered brokenly, trailing off.

"I know…it's alright…" she echoed back, dragging her fingers through his hair.

Later that afternoon, Buck was taken off the line; on the report, it listed that he had a bad case of trench foot. Nobody thought any less of him for it.

Oooooooo

With Buck gone and off the line, there was no possible alternative to Dike, least none that Grace or Lip or anyone else could see.

A day later, Grace was helping the men clear up the shrapnel from the shelling the day before.

She hadn't slept last night – the shelling all too fresh in her mind. Joe's strangled cries, Bill's shock, their debilitating wounds, their mangled legs, Buck's sob and lost eyes…

These men…these wonderful, beautiful men that she had met and grown with for the last few years had evolved quickly into brothers – more than that…comrades in arms, soul mates. Witnessing them falling away from their tight and once unbreakable ranks was nearly too much to bear. It was too much for Buck…he _needed_ to go and get away from the line; it was what was best. Grace needed to stick it out and be there for the men…the men who were close to Bill, Joe, and Buck were hurting – and without a dependable leader there, they were in need of someone to take care of them.

The constant cringe of sadness creeping up on her needed to be controlled. She was a Lieutenant, she had seen her fair share of loss…_pick your chin up, take a deep breath, your men need you_.

"Grace?"

She turned to Dick's voice, "Dick?"

He came to a stop near her, his eyes concerned and his stance protective, "you haven't been off the line since we came into the Ardennes".

It wasn't a question, but Grace shrugged and nodded, knowing where this was going, "that's correct".

"You have been an irreplaceable asset to Easy, Grace, everyone knows that. You _need_ some time away from this…"

"Sir…"

Dick smirked sadly and shook his head, "I'm not gonna let you win this one, Gracie". He checked his watch, "it's 2100 right now…get yourself off the line…Dog and Fox companies are in reserve, fall back and stay at Dog's CP for at least a few hours".

"Should anything happen here…"

"Lew's had to put me in my place about taking care of Easy, so I know the feeling; the men will be ok", he reached forward and placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "The attack on Foy is in four days…if you aren't rested by then, we'll have more problems on our hands than we need." At her silence, he sighed, knowing all too well how it felt to be told to sit back and take a breather, "I need you at one hundred percent, Gracie…go get some rest." Grace nodded, gathering her medic bag and slinging it around her shoulders. "If you're not back by 0500, I'll be sending someone for you".

"Yes, sir", she smiled tightly at his kind, handsome face – smiling was hard…after Bill, Joe, and Buck, it almost felt wrong to smile. "Thank you, Dick".

Ooooooooo

Grace's eyes swept the forest casually. With the forest cleared, the risk of running into a retreating or fleeing Kraut was slim to none if one was traveling within the confines of the allied occupied area. Easy, Dog, and Fox were on the Eastern part of the line facing Foy…if anyone was to walk too far East, they would near the MLR – the main line of resistance – that bordered Kraut-infested territory. Lew had told Grace Intelligence had thought a road nearby was being used by the Germans to bring artillery into Foy.

Her eyelids felt heavy, her neck and shoulders stiff, her nose burned from the constant cold…but worst of all was the ache in her heart. If she had insisted Bill stay put, if she had held onto Buck, if she had worked harder to ensure Joe and everyone's foxholes were finished…the three of them would still be with Easy. Fifty replacements would never be able to fill their shoes.

Passing by Dog's OP, Grace kept walking the thirty yards in to reach the rest of their holes. Before she could get to them, however, she heard the ominous and familiar sound of eighty-eights keening and deploying their way.

ZING ZING ZING

The high pitched howl pierced the night air and Grace began to run. Easy would take the hardest hit, but everyone was in danger…the term 'in reserve' was always used very loosely.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

Flashes of light illuminated the sky and Grace heard trees overhead exploding.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Trying to use the flashing to her advantage, she searched, crouching down now for cover – something that resembled a foxhole.

BOOM BOOM

Her breathing becoming painful because of the cold, she grimaced, dirt flying up nearby.

BOOM!

Suddenly surging forward, Grace was jerked to the side, her body meeting the side of a well-dug foxhole. Initially alarmed, her fingers dug into the cold dirt and snow beneath her…when a heavy body landed on top of her, pinning her stomach to the soil.

BOOM!

Her breathing was heavy from running and adrenaline; the warm body on top of her was breathing heavily as well. An arm snaked around her waist in the lull of the direct barrage…heavy 'booms' were still going off near their location.

"Are you alright?" his voice directed in her ear.

She breathed out in relief, "yes".

Helping Grace shift and turn over under him, Ron's hands and eyes checked her over furiously for any sign of injury.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Instinctively, their hands sought each others'; he pulled her tight against his chest, his arms cradling her body as she fisted his coat, keeping him flush with her. He felt her bury her face in his shoulder and all he could think was that he needed her. He _needed_ his arms around her, needed her to hold him, needed to know that they would make it out of this and find a way to be together at the end of all things.

BOOM! BOOM!

In the chaos and flashes, the shrapnel and explosions surrounding them, Grace marveled how in this moment of ultimate terror, she turned to him like this…with such _intimacy_, for comfort and protection. It felt so nice to live just in _this _moment…to enjoy holding him so close, to pretend for a second that they were merely two young people in love and nothing else. They clutched one another, akin to lovers, and there was a sliver of serenity for all the dark things that surrounded them.

BOOM.

Then silence.

Her eyes caught his…they said nothing at first; Grace's preliminary thought was "_I love you"_ followed closely by _"is this normal?"_ Was it normal to find love in war? His green eyes searched hers…how she wanted to tell him, tell him how she felt. That wouldn't be right…not _here, _not in this; the fire in the pit of her stomach burned out at the reflection.

"Winters told me to expect an Easy trooper", Ron began, his voice hushed and sending warm breath over Grace's features, "he didn't tell me it was you".

She spoke unemotionally, "he told me to get off the line for a bit". Leaning forward, her hands against his chest, her eyes swept his body checking for any wounds, "are you alright?"

Ron nodded then frowned at the hollowness of her tone, the parroting of her words, "what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did he tell you to get off the line?"

Grace sighed, her heart constricting, "we got hit yesterday…"

"I remember…we heard it"

"Guarnere and Toye both lost a leg…Lieutenant Compton and I saw it happen".

"Grace", he breathed.

"Buck was moved off the line hours after", her voice dropped to a slight whisper, "he couldn't take seeing that".

His hand covered hers, wanting to do more but resigned to a simple touch, "are you being pulled off the line?"

She shook her head, "no, I don't want to be…in fact, I should get right back to Easy in case something happened"

"I agree that last barrage was bad, but you should stay here", Ron insisted.

"I have my pack with me…syrettes, bandages…if they got hit bad, then Gene's gonna need me there", she said climbing out of the hole cautiously.

Ron looked at her with exasperation, "you are going to give _everything_, aren't you?"

"Ron?"

"I can't…", he took a breath and stopped himself for a second before looking back up, "no, I can't stand by…and _watch_ this".

"Watch what?" she whispered.

"Your constant sacrifice", he finished, breathless.

She stood, bewildered - knowing what he meant, feeling what he meant. "Let me do my job", she said softly in an understanding tone.

She turned and walked in the direction of Easy, her heart stuttering at his sudden outburst. She wanted nothing more than to stay with him; did he not know that? But she is still a _Lieutenant_…she has an obligation to her company. The shelling had set her mind afloat…what if Easy had been decimated? What if they lost more men? What if Lew was hit? Or George, Floyd, Don, Lieb?

She had to get to them in case they needed her…she couldn't let any more of them perish.

Grace began to jog once she passed Dog company's OP, knowing that her company was a few minutes' walk away – and she wanted to get back to them as soon as possible.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

She was breathing too hard in her anxiety to hear the eighty-eights deploy.

Suddenly, trees were exploding once again; dirt spraying in waves overhead.

Grace ran to a group of fallen trees for cover…

BOOM!

She felt her feet leave the ground.

She didn't feel the impact of her body hitting a nearby tree.

**BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!**

Sitting up sharply, a harsh pain in her head – Grace tried to breathe; the breath had been knocked out of her. She was lying down beside a tree…she was still intact, but the group of trees she was running to had been blown into a pile of firewood.

Obviously she had been knocked out.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Struggling but managing to get up, Grace ran…she knew she was in severe danger – this area of the woods was being targeted and she needed to reach Easy's foxholes…disoriented or not.

"Huh uh, huh uh, huh uh", her breath was coming in throbbing gasps as she ran, her blurring vision coming into focus a dozen yards later.

After what felt like minutes, Grace stopped and knelt beside a large tree to gather herself and see where she was…she should have reached her position by now. She reached inside her shirts and pulled out her compass necklace, squinting at it through her spinning vision.

She was facing East.

Squeezing her eyes shut and breathing evenly, she knew that was bad – that was very bad. She could be past the MLR. Looking up, taking in her surroundings, her heart dropped, not recognizing a thing…she should not have run like that. She was completely disoriented – she should have stayed put beside the trees and waited it out.

To her right, she could see the edge of the tree line…Foy was behind her…that meant Easy was way behind her as well.

"Die Stadt in Recht nach oben voraus, sind wir nah".

She was horribly past the MLR.

The voice came from her left. She stopped breathing.

"Nachdem wir an der Baumslinie vorbeigehen, die wir kombinieren werden, behält Ihre Augen offen".

Leaning forward, Grace stealthily looked around the tree to her left.

A squad of Germans were headed her way…about half a platoon. The tree was large enough, she could stay hidden behind it – it was too late to run back now.

SNAP!

Freezing, Grace heard a large twig or stick snap…it was from her left, but it was not from the group approaching her position.

Leaning back this time and gazing left, her heart seized in fear…

The other half of the platoon was keeping pace with the others…and they were headed her way.

She could no longer sit behind the tree, this half would walk right into her.

On her knees behind the tree, Grace could think of three ways to get away:  
>One…she could run out into the clearing to her right, drawing the Germans out with her…but her men may begin firing at the commotion – and that would expose their position and ruin the attack on Foy.<br>Two…she could bolt suddenly and run backwards, back to Easy's position…but she would never…that would lead this platoon of Krauts straight to Easy.

Plan three then.

Instantaneously, Grace lifted her compass and dog tags off her neck and set them on the ground beside the tree. Her fingers shaking slightly, she quickly unfastened her Lieutenant bars and set them down as well. She took off her helmet and set it on top of the pile, followed by her medic bag…but not before pulling the flare gun out.

If she were caught, the Germans could _never_ know she was a ranking officer…they would torture her for information.

She stood and turned around, aimed the flare gun West towards Easy, and at an angle up into the trees…if someone saw this, they could come and find her things. Her heart nearly burst in her chest…Lew could have her tags…Ron could have the compass to remember her by.

She needed to get these Germans away from her men.

Setting her jaw, she pulled the trigger.

FFSSHHHH! The red spark flew like a rocket through the trees…hopefully marking its way over the heads of Easy.

"Flackern Sie Gewehr! Wer gibt es?!"

Dropping the flare on her small pile, Grace turned back East…..

And ran.

"Gehen Sie! Lauf!" They called after her. She was running further into enemy territory…she didn't care…she was keeping her men safe.

The roaring in her ears was being broken through by shouts in German. The yelling was growing softer, while running footsteps were gaining ground.

With every step she took, her side exploded in pain. In the back of her mind, Grace thought she must have bruised a rib when she hit that tree.

_Stomp Stomp Stomp Stomp_

The feet were coming closer…it wouldn't be much longer now. Pushing herself faster, further, further away from Easy – Grace almost convinced herself she was back in Toccoa, with Sobel hot on her heels.

She felt breath on her neck, strong hands on her arms, as she was pulled down hard….

_I love you, Ron_.

Then…blackness.

**More to come.**

**Please review!**


	34. Chapter 34

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

_**Thank you to CAPTAIN TY, ROOSSMIT, and WARPED TENCHU for your reviews – thank you so much!  
>If it's not too much to ask, can everyone reading please send some positive vibes my way? My 4 year old puppy, Henry, has a liver problem and we're taking care of things and he's being a trooper…but he is my first doggie and this is really scary! Thanks so much!<strong>_

'_The moon is a loyal companion.  
>It never leaves. It's always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it's a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human.<br>Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.'  
>- Tahereh Mafi, 'Shatter Me'<em>

Lip and George sat side by side in a foxhole, cigarettes glowing. Around them, ash and snow mingled lazily in the air. Their ears still ringing, hearts still racing from the intense barrage that took two more comrades from them.

Their gaze remained on the dud shell resting on the edge of their foxhole.

"Now's a good time than ever to start the habit, Lip", George croaked, his voice sounding tender and loud to his ears.

FFSHHHHH!

Ducking on instinct, the two men flinched at the noise when Lip looked up, seeing the red flare fly across laterally, along the tree line.

"What's that, a flare?" George inquired.

"Yeah…yeah, it is", Lip nodded, squinting.

"An aid or supply flare?"

Lip shook his head, "I don't know." He gestured to the right, where it had come from, "it came from over there…way over by Dog".

George leaned up, "no…further than that…by the MLR. But it was definitely shot off on our side". He looked back, concerned now, "is that normal?"

"I'm going to Winters…I'll ask him", Lip said, climbing out.

Ooooooooo

His breath coming out in visible huffs, Lip made it to Company CP after passing by the other men and making sure they were all ok. Approaching the tent, he was relieved to see it still standing – and to see Winters and Nixon standing and talking.

"Lipton".

"Yes sir", he came to a stop beside Winters.

"The men alright?" Winters asked.

Lip sighed, "Muck and Penkala took a direct hit – Luz saw it". Winters' eyes were tight as he nodded for him to continue; beside him, Nixon sighed, his hand on his hip. "Hashey got a piece in the shoulder but he's ok. Other than that, the men are fine, sir. I came to ask about the flare Luz and I saw overhead after the barrage".

"A flare?" Nixon frowned.

"I didn't see one fly up", Winters said.

"No sir, it came from the East…flew across the trees. That's why I came over…wanted to see if we were expecting any supplies or aid".

Winters shook his head, "I wasn't aware of any dump…but then again, it wouldn't be the first time battalion neglected to tell me of one." He nodded to Lip, "I'll get someone on the phone…ask if Dog or Fox sent a white flare signaling a dump".

"No, sir", Lip interrupted, "it came from far East, over by the MLR…and it was a red flare".

Nixon stepped forward, toward Lip, his eyes suddenly wide, "it was _red_?"

"Nix?" Winters squinted at Nixon's tense stance.

"I gave Grace a flare gun before we marched into the Ardennes. She had nothing else on her, Dick."

Dick nodded, "I would have done the same".

Lew's chest was tightening, hoping to God she was in a hole somewhere with George or Tab and fixing Dick with a serious stare, "I gave the last red flare in the entire ETO to Grace". His dark eyes looked then to Lip, his tone deathly urgent, "did you see her on your way over here?"

Before Lip could answer, Dick stepped forward, his blood running cold as he put the pieces together; the barrage, the flare, "I ordered Grace off the line".

Lew's heart dropped through his stomach, "what?"

"She hadn't been off the line since we got here. I sent her to Dog Company for a rest…the barrage hit after she left", Dick explained. "Jesus Christ…"

Lew, his brain and heart working faster than his body can keep up turned to Lip, "you said the flare looked like it came from the MLR?"

Lip nodded, his head throbbing with the realization that Easy might have lost Grace, "yes sir…if not further past it".

Dick spoke in a firm and pressing tone, "Lipton, grab a squad…find the origin of the flare…she might be injured….and Lip – be safe". Lipton nodded as Dick dismissed him; he turned to Lew, "Nix?"

"Yeah?" he breathed, his mouth feeling dry.

Dick kept his breathing even, his eyes remaining on his friend's paling face, "we're gonna find her".

Ooooooooo

Lipton reached the men, his trip back seeming quicker. Spotting George, Tab, and Lieb standing together, he approached them – unsure and apprehensive as to how to break the news.

"Lip", Joe acknowledged as he nodded.

George turned around, "you find out what that flare was?"

Lip nodded, swallowing heavily, "I need a squad…Grace needs our help"

"What happened?" Tab demanded immediately, his voice instantly raw; George and Lieb stiffening next to him.

"Let's gather a squad first…come on, I'll explain our orders when we've got everyone". Lip turned to George, "Luz, is Malarkey alright?"

"He's shaken…but he'll want to help Gracie", George said, his voice low and impatient.

"What's goin' on?" George and Lip turned to see Malarkey – his hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes shifted back and forth between them, "I heard Tab talking to Bull…where's Gracie?"

Ooooooooo

Moments later, Lip stood before Tab, George and Lieb who had spread the word that a squad was needed to help Grace.

The men had jumped faster than Lip had ever seen. Their reaction had not surprised him one bit. Tab and George and Don were the most bothered…their eyes betrayed their fear. Lieb, Babe and Moore were angry – they gripped their rifles hard. Bull, Perco and the rest of the men all radiated concern and fierce protectiveness.

Malarkey, Gene, Spina, Bull, Babe, Martin, Perco, Popeye, Ramirez, Moore, and Christianson had been adamant that they be a part of the squad. Lip smirked sadly, knowing Grace would be proud of their enthusiasm.

"Where's Lieutenant Grant, Sarge?" Bull asked, his eyes like probes.

"After the barrage, I saw a red flare shoot across the trees…it came from the East – over past the MLR", Lip explained.

"By Kraut territory?" Malarkey said, his eyes wide.

Lip nodded, "Captain Nixon informed me that Grace was the only person in Belgium that has a red flare and she was over near that location…Captain Winters wants any and all volunteers to get to the MLR, _safely_, and find her…she may be wounded". His gaze looked over all of their hardened and angered features; he already knew their answer but he had to ask, "who's in?"

Ooooooooo

Their squad had made it to a clearing some time later. Tab's stomach became queasy, knowing they were near the MLR and seeing the large exploded pile of trees in front of them.

"Sarge", Babe, from next to George called out, "I see one pair of boot tracks on the snow over here".

George looked over where Babe was pointing, "I see them too".

Malarkey and Bull strode forward to see with Martin as Tab nodded, "they're small prints", Bull noted somberly.

"And they're heading that way", Lieb confirmed, ten yards ahead of the group.

"Further East", Perco muttered.

Floyd's heart pounded and his head spun as he fought to avoid George's intense stare and Don's heaving posture. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other…on expecting to find Grace somewhere _alive_.

As they got closer to the MLR, Lip ordered them to crouch down and keep their talk to a minimum.

Floyd placed himself in lead scout position.

His boots did not make a sound on the soft, untouched snow. The other footprints he could see were small and had to belong to Grace. His eyes remained on the prints, some feet ahead of him. The group approached another line of thick trees that led directly into a long ditch in front of them. The ditch-like path led right into the clearing that went straight to Foy. They had made it way past the MLR.

Looking behind his right shoulder, Floyd could see the town of Foy and beyond that, Easy's position. He turned back, a very large tree yards in front. At the base of the tree lay an American helmet…on the side of the helmet, the spade, the signal of the 101st. Nearing the helmet, Floyd made out the single bar painted on the back, signaling an officer.

He dropped to a knee and held up his fist, stopping the silent advance.

Lip ran up to Tab, "what do you see?"

Tab pointed to the helmet, "look down…at the base of the tree".

Lip breathed out and nodded, "ok…grab another guy and check it out. We'll set up a cover formation".

Tab nodded as Lip turned and whispered orders to the others; he looked to George, "Luz…on me".

Luz came forward and the two of them, their rifles out and ready, walked in a crouched position toward the tree for cover. Kneeling down, Tab placed his rifle on the ground and picked up the helmet, beside it was the empty flare gun.

"Floyd", George whispered.

Looking away from the helmet and flare at George, Tab saw his big eyes trained on the snow. His gaze followed, "holy shit".

Under the helmet was a discarded medic bag, two silver Lieutenant bars, a compass on a chain and a set of dog tags.

His fingers shaking, George reached for the dog tags and read.

**Grace A. Grant  
>19126213 1LT O<br>323 East End Ave. 88****th**** Street  
>Manhattan, NY<strong>

"Oh God", George whispered, handing them over to Tab.

Floyd let out a shaky breath, his eyes sweeping over the ditch…he caught her footprints…leading out across the ditch…and onto the other side. "George".

George, having placed her items into the medic bag and the medic bag into her helmet, looked to where Tab was pointing. He too saw her path…and the cluster of other prints following hers.

_She had led them away from the men._

"Gracie…what did you do?" he whispered painfully, knowing they couldn't go any further than this.

Tab's eyes stung, his breath came in short gasps, "we can't keep going".

"I know".

"I….how do we.."

"I don't want to leave her either, Tab".

"We have to walk away", he breathed.

George nodded, "I know".

Kneeling back, Tab turned to the men and looked up through the trees. He imagined Grace, running during the barrage - perhaps hurt, no-doubt disoriented – coming across a group of Germans…

His heart constricted as he thought of her, removing her tags and all…turning and firing the flare…and running….leading the Krauts away from the men, away from Easy's position.

A tear rolled down his face, "let's go", he muttered to George, whose face was also wet. They got to Lip and Tab spoke quickly, gesturing to George who held her helmet close, "her helmet, the flare gun, her medic bag…" he looked at Lip seriously, "…a compass on a chain, her Lieutenant bars, and her dog tags…all at the base of that tree".

The silence that greeted the words was deafening and eerie.

"The footprints stopped there?" Lip asked.

George shook his head, his fingers gripping the metal of her helmet, "no".

"Fuck", Lieb whispered.

"Her prints go out and across the path, further East…a cluster of prints that were heading to Foy in the pathway follow hers into the trees", Tab finished.

"Holy shit", Martin said, sharing a serious look with Bull and Babe.

"What do we do?" Don urged.

Tab and Luz's shoulders slumped as Lip held his breath, looking over the men…all their eyes glassy. He shook his head, "you know this is as far as we can go. We need to get back to our location." He hated himself for saying it aloud.

Ooooooo

Her helmet felt cold and light under Lipton's arm as he made his way to Easy's CP for the second time that day.

With three days now until the attack on Foy, Lip felt lucky to have made it to the MLR and back without any resistance.

Nixon, pacing in front of the CP under Winters' watchful and worried gaze spotted Lip first, "where is she?" He demanded quickly.

Lipton paused, the helmet instantly growing in weight at the passion in Nixon's eyes. "We didn't find her, sir".

Lew felt the bile rise steadily in his throat and Dick stepped in at his silence, "what did you find?"

Lip held the helmet out, "we found footprints in a clearing on our side that had seen a heavy barrage. The prints led to a tree near a ditch…a pathway in the woods beyond the MLR that led into the clearing outside of Foy." He gestured to the helmet, "at the base of the tree was this".

Wordlessly, Dick looked to Lewis.

Lew was choking down the gripping fear that held his throat like a vice. Unable to speak or swallow, he strode forward before the dread made him turn and run away. He pulled out the medic bag from the helmet and opened it…inside was the flare gun he had given her, along with a few medic supplies. He threw the helmet, the flare, and the supplies onto the snow. Reaching into the bag, his hand felt metal and he withdrew his hand and let the bag flutter to the ground. Nestled in his palm were her silver bars, the compass Speirs gave her, and her dog tags.

Lew's heart stopped.

Lipton continued, "her prints led from the tree, across the pathway and into the woods further east..."

Winters interrupted him, his voice gravelly and guarded, "why would she run?"

"In the pathway was a large cluster of other footprints…they followed hers into the woods…"

"And away from Easy", Dick finished for Lip, catching on to the sacrifice Grace had made for her Company.

Beside them, Lew tried desperately to strangle a sob that was ripping through his chest.

"I think she got caught in the barrage, might have been thrown around and lost direction…stopped near the path to find her way and ran into Germans, sir", Lip offered.

"She knew she could get caught when she ran", Lew breathed, his voice shaking. "She stripped herself of everything, knowing what the Krauts would do if they found out she was an officer".

Dick, keeping his emotions in check, nodding tightly to Lip, "dismissed, Lipton. Nix…I've got to go and brief Sink".

Lip kept his eyes on Nixon as Dick strode passed them, his jaw tense and his lips tight. Lip shook his head, "sir…"

Lew shook his head, his eyes downcast on the objects in his palm, "there's nothing to say, Lip". He gently plucked out the two silver bars and walked to him, "I'm not turning these in. Give them to the men…whomever you think. Give the medical supplies to Roe."

"Yes sir", Lip said, taking the two bars and retrieving the medic supplies.

Lew watched Lipton head back to the men…and he finally allowed the tears to spill over.

Turning abruptly into the tent, a hand over his mouth, Lew held himself up with his other hand on the table. Warm tears smeared down his unshaven face, his lungs depriving themselves of oxygen as he struggled to keep his sobs quiet.

_I'm so sorry, Chuck…I tried, I tried to keep her safe. _

His breath trembling, Lew pocketed her dog tags and stared at the small, intricate compass….

…he needed to tell Speirs.

Ooooooo

Floyd and George sat squished together in the small foxhole that Grace had shared with them the night before. After coming back from the patrol to find her, the men sought out comfort separately…the pain of Grace being MIA absolutely sudden and shocking.

"Tab? George?" Lip's voice called out gently.

"Hey Lip", Tab said.

"You payin' a visit to bum a smoke?" George asked.

"No", Lip shook his head, scoffing. "Hold out your hands".

"What?" George frowned.

"Just do it", Lip requested. Floyd and George each held out a hand, palm up. Lip reached forward and placed a silver bar in each palm. "Nixon gave me these…he didn't want to turn them in."

"Gracie's bars", Tab whispered.

"Lip…" George breathed.

"Grace would want you to have them", Lip insisted gently, "keep them safe".

Oooooooo

Ron had been praying for a chance to break and run to Easy company the first chance he could get. He needed to know Grace was alright, that she had made it back somehow through the second barrage safely. Dog company's phones were not working after the barrage so he couldn't call to check.

His heart had been in his throat the whole time since she had left him…being _with_ her and _not_ being with her was the only way he was measuring his time as of late.

"Lieutenant Speirs, sir?" a corporal stuck his head in the CP tent, "there's someone…"

Ron interrupted him, his eyes staring, unseeing onto the map of Foy, "send them in". The tent flap smacked into place and Ron turned around, his breathing stopping at the visitor, "Nixon".

Lew swallowed thickly, "Speirs".

Ron frowned, concerned at Nixon's hoarse voice and disheveled appearance. He focused in on his features, his heart slowing and his blood curdling at the Captain's red rimmed eyes and splotched face; his hands in fists at his sides.

The silence between them, beginning with surprised suspicion and concern eroded slowly in layers…giving way to horrifying apprehension and fear.

Dread crept into Ron's body, seizing his heart as Nixon wordlessly stepped forward and grabbed his hand, forcing something into it, then stepping back, his eyes empty.

His breath coming in perceptible, shallow gasps, Ron watched Nixon glared down to Ron's fist then to the ground.

_No. No, no. Not this._

His jaw slackened in trepidation, as he brought his fist up…foreboding ringing in his ears, rendering him deaf in this moment. Limbs beginning to tingle and his throat growing thicker, Ron opened his palm.

Her compass.

"Uhh", audibly moaning at the object, Ron's breath came in pants now.

_You were supposed to come back to me, love_.

"Found beyond the MLR", Nixon muttered.

Ron's vision began to blur, "when?"

"After the barrage".

"Oh God", Ron breathed, sickened; why did he let her walk away? "Where is she?"

"What?" Lew questioned.

'Where. Where is she? I need to see her body".

Lew shook his head, "no…she's MIA, she's missing".

Ron felt as if he had been punched in the gut, he couldn't form words, "um…"

"She wound up past the MLR during the barrage, stopped near a tree beside a path…Germans cut her off." Lew cleared his throat, his voice breaking, "she took off her bars, her dog tags, her helmet…the compass…and fired a flare towards Easy, then ran – leading the Germans away from us". Ron held his breath and kept his eyes on the ground at Lew's feet. Allowing the silence to stretch on a few moments, Lew turned to leave, "I know she took it off to make sure it found its way back to you". With that, he left Ron alone. "No one goes in there", he barely heard Nixon order the men outside the tent as his breathing picked up once again, grief raging in his ears.

_Grace, I love you_.

Falling to his knees, Ron clutched at the delicate chain and compass, tears flowing freely down his face with the safety of being alone. There was a sacredness in his tears…words were insufficient in this moment. Tears spoke more eloquently than ten thousand words…they spoke of overwhelming grief, of unspeakable love.

Pain. Smothering, conquering pain enveloped him whole and ripped at his bruised and bleeding heart. Gasping again, Ron gripped the compass, it's imperfect edges digging into his skin.

_Where is she?_

She had come into the vacancy of his heart years ago, which closed upon her quickly…he had felt towards her something he had never felt for any other human being. She is missing…and when _one_ person such as she is missing, the entire world seems depopulated. Ron was alone. When you lose the most important person, when you lose your love…where does all the love go?...the love you never even knew you were capable of?

_Where are you, my love_?

_With Germans_?

His blood boiled over and his stomach lurched at the idea. What they could do to her…he could not bear to think about it; and yet now, he could not think about anything else.

_I will find you._

He swore to himself he would…for in his heart was a ruthless dictator, ready to contemplate the misery of a thousand people if it will ensure the safety of the woman he loved.

**REVIEW please!**


	35. Chapter 35

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Huge, profound thank-you's, hugs, and kisses to WARPED TENCHU, CAPTAIN TY, ICE COLD IN ALEX, BRIJANE, AUSSIEGIRL-1988, ROOSSMIT and LIZZIE1708 for your thoughtful, wonderful reviews…you guys make my day whenever I get an alert that this story received a review. It keeps me motivated and writing. Thank you so much.**

**In other news, my puppy has a procedure to biopsy his little liver this Saturday…he's ok and home and eating, so that's a promising sign. Thank you so much for the good vibes for him.**

'_Forget the dead, the past? O yet  
>There are ghosts that may take revenge for it,<br>Memories that make the heart a tomb,  
>Regrets which glide through the spirit's gloom,<br>And with ghastly whispers tell  
>That joy, once lost, is pain.'<br>-Percy Brysshe Shelley, 'The Past'_

Behind her eyelids, it was dark.

The ground was cold, hard, scratchy; it smelt musty.

Dull pain in her side and head roared as she shifted, jolting her into semi-consciousness. Her vision foggy, blurring, and spinning, Grace saw a wooden ceiling with beams.

Moving, she registered how cold she was…she was shivering. Is that why everything was spinning? She felt sick. Closing her eyes to the hazy blur of wherever she was, she felt gravity spin again, pinning her to the floor.

"Gracie girl".

She tried opening her eyes to the warm, deep voice, "Chuck?"

"Grace".

"Where are you?" Her voice was raw, barely a whisper, her head throbbed with every syllable.

"I'm always here, sis". His voice was clear as crystal.

She tried to pry open her eyes to see him. The large, wooden building she was in was still spinning painfully. "Where's Ron?" she asked, her eyes trying to locate Chuck's silhouette.

"Stay awake", he ordered, his voice felt close to her face.

"Tell him…", she whimpered, her breathing shaky.

"A chuisle mo chroi…stay awake", his voice was fading.

"Tell him, Chuck…", she coughed, pain ripping through her left side, "he's mo anam cara".

Lying on her side, Grace tried to reach for him and felt nothing. He wasn't here…she had to remind herself. He was gone. She swore she heard him. What was happening?

Breathing and trying to stay still, she opened her eyes again, attempting to will her spinning vision to cease.

She was in a large, mostly empty, rectangular wooden building. She was near the back and there were two large doors in the front. There were wooden barrels lining one wall, wooden crates lining the other. To the left of the doors was a narrow staircase leading up somewhere to a loft-like space. There was a heavy, cold draft wafting in from the stairs, some snow flurried in with the heavy gusts. There must have been a large window open…or a hole in the roof.

Right now, she searched for a word. A word that described the feeling she had – a cold, sick feeling deep down inside – when you know something is happening that will change you, and you don't want it to, but you can't stop it. She knew, for the first time, if she lived that there will be a _before_ and an _after_, a _was_ and a _will be_; and she would never again be quite the same person she was.

Attempting to sit up, Grace gasped at the white stab of pain from her head that flashed before her eyes. Rolling to her side again, her vision blurred and shifted; she squeezed her eyes shut.

Darkness took her again.

Ooooooooo

Ron stared at the map of Foy in front of him, it's every centimeter of information etched into his mind…but the precise markings before him bled into an indecipherable mess.

They had one day until the siege on Foy; Dog was in reserves backing Easy, but Ron knew their C.O. Norman Dike would choke. And Dog would be called upon to help. They needed to be ready.

Alone in the CP tent after a meeting about the battle, Ron's hand absently traveled to her compass now around his neck; he tried, tried so hard to keep his focus completely on his work. He was unsuccessful, during meetings and briefings, he tried to throw himself into planning…but any focus never endured, and it was nonexistent during solitude.

His whole mind and body seemed to be afflicted with an unbearable sensitivity, a sort of transparency, which made every movement, every sound, every contact, every word that he had to speak or listen to, an agony. Even in his sleep, he could not altogether escape from her image.

Dreams had been vivid. He saw her face. He didn't want to wake up; he felt more _alive_ in his dreams that he did walking the earth. It was a reverse nightmare…when you _wake up_ from a nightmare, you're relieved. Ron woke up _into_ a nightmare every day.

It had only been two days. Two days of her missing…he had never missed anyone the way he missed her. During the course of each day, his heart would descend from his chest to his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by despair and the desire to be alone. By evening, he would fall asleep with his heart at his feet, like a pet, like a dog that wasn't a part of him at all…as if it was too painful to stay within his body. He didn't know who was rejecting who – was his body rejecting his heart because of its yearning for her, or was his heart abandoning his body because it craved her? By morning, he would wake into his nightmare with his heart in his chest like a cage, having become a little heavier and weaker, but still pumping painfully, reminding him that he was still _here_…and that she was not.

Regret was around every tree. _He should have told her_. Why didn't he tell her? She needed to know, deserved to know, before she left this world, that he was so in love with her. He was not perfect, and neither was she, but their combined flaws were arranged in such a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together. He would be connected to her always. There was no other woman, no other soul meant for him.

She was as much a part of him as his own soul. Her place is his heart had been tender since that day in Toccoa when he first saw her, crawling through the dusty training course, being yelled at by Sobel. That tender spot had grown, it was a bruise of longing, a pulse of unfinished business…just hearing or thinking her name pushed and pulled at him in a hundred different ways. When Ron tried to define those hundreds of ways, words were useless. If he had a lifetime to talk, there would still be things left unsaid.

Oooooooo

"I swear her bars are good luck, Floyd", George muttered to Tab, both of them cleaning their rifles for the next day's battle on Foy.

Tab smiled sadly, "what happened?"

"Malark asked if he could hold onto it for tonight, I said yes…not five minutes later, yours truly is assigned to Dike for the attack on Foy".

"Tough break, George", Tab sympathized, "I agree with you, though".

The men had heard about George and Tab having her Lieutenant bars. Nixon had kept her tags, but had given Lip her bag and bars. The night all the men had found out what had happened, the Toccoa men gathered and said a prayer for those that they had lost recently: Guarnere, Toye, Compton, Muck, Penkala, and Grace.

George, Tab, Joe, Don, and the rest of the men received her bag from Gene, who had just taken the medical supplies. In her bag, they found two cigarettes, a lighter, and an empty flask. Joe was given her lighter and Don was gifted her flask. They all wanted a piece of her to carry around. All of their eyes were wet when George gently pulled the last item out of her bag: a small cosmetics case. All the battle-hardened men went silent at the feminine reminder of Grace. The small butter-colored bag with little honey bees embroidered on it was a painful keepsake. A near oxymoron – syrettes, guns, bullets, cigarettes, a lighter…and a makeup bag.

Oooooooo

Grace's eyes fluttered open. Her vision no longer making her nauseous, she gingerly sat up as quietly as she could. Her head still hurt dully and her sides, specifically her ribs, were tender.

"Hey". She turned abruptly to her left, regretting the action, her head spun slightly. Squinting through the dark and her pain, she saw two men nearby. Both were in paratrooper uniforms, "you ok miss?"

Grace breathed out in surprise, her teeth chattering slightly, "who are you?"

The man who was speaking had tan skin and dark hair, "I'm Corporal Stefano", he pointed to the younger man with blond hair, "and that's Private Colson".

Colson spoke in a hushed voice, "are you a nurse?"

Reeling from seeing two Americans with her, Grace absently shook her head slowly, "no…what are you doing here?"

"We were in Bastogne, it got bombed…the Krauts stormed it and took us", Stefano answered.

"You injured?" She asked.

Stefano nodded, "I'm nursing a bullet wound through the shoulder and Colson here was peppered with heavy shrapnel on his right side".

"We were treated in Bastogne, but we're not in great shape", Colson said.

"I don't have anything to help you…"Grace trailed off.

"We figured the Krauts would strip you", Stefano nodded.

"You were out for a while, were talkin' in your sleep earlier though", Colson noted. "Are you a nurse?" He asked again.

Grace looked at them both, taking in their features. They were beat up; both had scratches and bruises on their faces, Stefano had a black eye, Colson looked weak and sickly. Could she trust them? If Germans stormed in here now to interrogate…she couldn't tell them her company or rank, it could work against her in the end and she wouldn't put these two men in danger. "I'm not a nurse. I'm with the 101st." She looked at their confused faces, "you've been here since Bastogne was bombed?" Stefano nodded while Colson looked like he might throw up. "Jesus", Grace muttered.

Suddenly the doors opened.

Four Germans walked in, three heading to the wooden crates obviously grabbing supplies, while the last larger one, an officer, walked forward, his eyes on Grace.

"She awakes", he said cheerfully in a dark tone, his gruff voice colored with a thick accent.

Grace clenched her jaw, her stomach curdling at what they could do to her…to the wounded and helpless men next to her.

"Sir", Stefano began, his voice suddenly weak, "can we have a fire, please? It's night time…and only getting colder".

The officer's creepy smile was replaced immediately by a darkened scowl. He turned to the men by the crates, "Kommen Sie hier, nehmen Sie einen.", he barked. The German soldiers came over, one to each of them. The German who came to Grace had blue eyes, his face was very young, his expression was dead. "Ziehen Sie sie, ab wollen Sie ich alle von ihren Mänteln, Schals, und Handschuhen." The young man began ripping Grace's coat off. Initially, she tried to resist, but the young German slapped her away with a sting.

She looked over to Stefano and Colson, the Germans in front of them were doing the same thing. The large officer dragged over an empty wooden barrel, and threw the discarded coats into it. Her field jacket was taken off and thrown into the barrel, her gloves, her BDU shirt, and the scarf Ron had given her…all went into the barrel along with Colson's and Stefano's gear. They were left in nothing but their pants, boots, and undershirts, shivering.

The officer pulled a matchbook from his breast pocket and nodded at the young German who stripped Grace. He doused the contents of the barrel with gasoline. The officer lit the matchbook on fire and threw it into the barrel, igniting the only means of keeping them warm.

"There…fire", the officer said. Walking forward, the officer grabbed Stefano by the shirt and dragged him out front, kicking the doors wide open with the three other soldiers following him.

Grace was breathing hard, shivering and unmoving as she stared out the opened doors.

She knew this landscape…

The large stacks of hay…the snow covered rooftops of the small buildings on their side.

She had looked upon this village before.

They were in the large building with the caved-in roof.

They were _in_ Foy.

POP!

A single gunshot pierced the quiet night and Grace and Colson jumped. Grace's heart pounded, fearing what had just happened.

The large officer walked back in the front doors alone, "you talk without question…you get shot".

Beside her, Colson whimpered softly, cowering to the ground. Grace stood protectively in front of him, her eyes turned outward, toward Easy's position outside the opened doors. The officer scoffed; disgusted at Colson's weakness, at Grace's display of defiance, then he walked outside, slamming the doors and leaving them alone.

There's nothing worse than waiting and not knowing what will happen to you…your own imagination can be crueler than any captor.

Oooooooo

Nearing two hours later, Foy was silent, gentle snow flurries were cascading down the stairs from the hole in the roof.

Grace had made sure Colson was comfortable and not in shock. She had crudely covered him in empty burlap sacks from the ground for some warmth. His wounds were bad. If they were not recovered from the American paratroopers taking Foy, Colson would die soon. That is, if the two of them lived through the battle for Foy. Grace knew the Germans would rather kill any POW's than let them be taken back by the allies. She hadn't seen much, but God knows what Colson had seen and heard in the weeks he had been with them.

She looked to the doors…Easy was just across the clearing, probably looking this way, preparing for the battle.

Her hand found her pocket and reached in before her brain really caught up…in her right hand was the pocket flashlight Tab had given her so long ago.

Would Easy's CP be able to see a Morse code from here?

Checking back on Colson to make sure he was sleeping, Grace made her way over to the doors. Holding her breath, her eyes searched through the cracks in the wood for a guard outside…she didn't see one. Gently trying the handle and praying it wasn't locked, she nearly sobbed when it opened easily.

Sinking to her knees, Grace crawled over to the side, in the direction where Stefano was taken. There, propped up against the side of the building, was Stefano's lifeless body, a bullet hole in his forehead.

Grace's stomach flipped at the sight, her lip trembling. She reached forward and unclasped his dog tags, pocketing them.

Shivering violently from the chilling gusts of wind licking her vulnerable body, Grace turned her body to the open clearing, her breath the only sound apart from the gentle howling of the wind.

She could make a run for it.

She could be shot while running.

She could stay and pray to God that Easy took Foy quickly.

She could not leave Colson.

Making herself small and pressing her back up against the building, Grace pulled the flashlight out in front of her. Her teeth now chattering audibly, Grace pressed her finger on the flashlight's button, sending the code bouncing over the snow.

_Tap-tap-tap….Taaaap taaap taaap…Tap-tap-tap._

Three short bursts, three long, then three short – the Morse code for 'S.O.S'.

Breathing becoming painful because of the cold, her body quaking from tremors, Grace concentrated on keeping the small beam of light forward, into the void of the clearing.

Could anyone even see this? Was anyone looking? She kept the flashlight out in front of her…the code becoming a mantra.

Under the heavy doubts and freezing conditions, Grace could feel herself stretching tighter and tighter…like a rubber band pulled to the point of snapping. With this desperate and dangerous attempt at reaching Easy and seeing how futile it was, she could feel the smaller, weaker parts of herself beginning to fray, tiny bits giving way before the big break.

Oooooooo

Lew could not sleep tonight. He had not slept more than two hours in a row since Grace had gone missing. Instead of retreating to his foxhole tonight, he remained at the CP, content on staying up and not confronting the nightmares he was having.

Sighing at his cold cup of bad coffee, he felt compelled to grab his binoculars to keep his hands busy.

He brought them up to his face, gazing lazily over across the clearing to Foy. He was worried about the attack tomorrow, worried about Dike, about how many men they would lose.

Lipton had come to him and Dick earlier, expressing his concern. It was extremely out of character for Lip; Dick and Lewis knew he had to be extremely disturbed to say anything at all. Dog would be in their reserve…and he knew Speirs would be biting their heels to get into the action.

Since D-Day, when Grace was missing then that first night, Lew had been wary of Speirs' reaction. He knew Speirs would tear the world apart if something happened to Grace Grant. Now that something had, Lew would have a prime seat to view the destruction of the German forces by Lieutenant Speirs' hand.

_Flash-flash-flash…Flaaash-flaaash-flaaash…Flash-flash-flash_

Lew stopped, holding his breath.

_Flash-flash-flash…Flaaash-flaaash-flaaash…Flash-flash-flash_

He knew that code.

Keeping his binoculars trained on the spot, he kept looking.

_Flash-flash-flash…Flaaash-flaaash-_

The code came again but abruptly stopped this time.

Squinting through the darkness, Lew could not make out any buildings. The flash came from ahead of them, in Foy – but what building it came from; there was no way of knowing.

He jogged to Dick's foxhole, "Dick".

"Nix?" Dick flipped the tarp back and squinted up at him.

"I saw something in Foy".

Dick regarded Lew's serious and anxious face as he climbed out of his foxhole stiffly, "what's up? Artillery move?"

Lew shook his head, "no…SOS".

"What?"

Lew pointed, "Morse code, Dick…SOS. I saw it two times, the third was interrupted and stopped".

Dick breathed evenly, knowing what Lew was thinking about this, "we can't be sure who's there…"

Lew stopped him with his hand up, "I know what you're thinking, Dick…and I'm not saying that. All I'm saying is that I saw an 'SOS' Morse code and the Krauts _might_ have POW's there."

Dick nodded, his heart racing as well, hoping the same thing Lew was but too afraid to speak it aloud, "I'll make sure to spread the word to all Officers before the battle…that there may be POW's in Foy".

Ooooooooo

Grace was shivering and still signaling with her flashlight when a snow-covered boot kicked her to the ground from the side, the flashlight flying from her grasp.

"Was dies ist?!" it was the young German soldier from earlier. Grabbing her roughly by the arm, he dragged her back to the doors, "was Sie macht, denken, dass Sie machen?!" He walked them inside and threw Grace violently down onto the ground near the now charred barrel. Her breath caught in her throat from the impact, her head banging against the ground. "Sie Stück des amerikanischen Abfalls!" he called down to her, kicking her left side twice and spitting on the ground.

Grace felt tears flowing down her face, into her hair and onto the dirty floor. She heard the doors slam shut through the blinding pain. Blackness prickled her vision as she struggled to breath, sucking in a ragged breath, she choked and coughed; searing, hot ache throbbing on her side. She tasted blood in her mouth.

Breathing labored, she swore she heard Chuck's voice call her name…

She had to stay alive…the attack on Foy was tomorrow…if she could survive tomorrow, she might see _him_ again….if only she could she him one last time…she missed him so much…she needed him to know...

Inky blackness flooded her vision, and she fell back into the void.

**A chuisle mo chroi = 'ah quish-leh muh kree' – Gaelic for "My darling girl"**

**Mo anam cara= 'muh anim cara' – Gaelic for "My soul mate"**

**Please, please review!**

**Update to come soon!**


	36. Chapter 36

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**WARPED TENCHU, AUSSIEGIRL-1988, ICE COLD IN ALEX, CAPTAIN TY – thank you so very much for your reviews.  
>I received a bit of a 'flame' and grew a bit discouraged…thanks again to CAPTAIN TY (who has a great new SpeirsOC story by the way – 'How are you gonna see me') for throwing me back on track.  
>For ALL my readers: THANK YOU so very much for reading. I write what I would like to read, and I greatly appreciate your attention, reviews, and care :-)<strong>

**Aided by a glass of lovely red wine, I am back and more than ready to chip away again.**

"_There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken.  
>There is a shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable.<br>There is a sorrow beyond all grief, which leads to joy;  
>and a fragility out of whose depths emerges strength.<br>There is a hollow space too vast for words through which we pass with each loss,  
>out of whose darkness we are sanctioned into being."<br>- Rashani, There is a Brokenness._

Ron stood stiffly in a circle with Colonel Sink, Major Strayer, Winters, Nixon, and Dike, listening to a briefing before the attack on Foy.

It had stopped snowing heavily save for a light flurry and the day was bright apart from the gray sky above. Between the questions and chatter, Ron's eyes searched the village of Foy. Beyond the short clearing, piles of hay dotted the landscape; past that, the snow-capped roofs of the town peered back at him.

He could have given the briefing himself; he had the plan of attack memorized. It had become a mantra in his mind – for it was the _only_ hurdle keeping his internal voice from slipping into some dark place.

His heart lurched frighteningly every time his mind skipped from his focus and thrust a horrifying image of what may have happened to Grace at him.

_Get it done, just get it done and get out_, he thought hourly this morning of the attack. If the attack was successful and he lived through it, he would be granted solitude once they moved out to grapple and come to terms with his Grace being M.I.A. After all, she could still be alive…if they took the town, _he_ could search the woods for her. _Where was she?_

"Now I understand you saw a signal from Foy last night, Captain Nixon?" Sink said.

Ron looked from his view of Foy to Lewis, intently studying his face.

Nixon nodded to Sink, "yes sir. Morse code…SOS. Two and a half times by flashlight, I believe; couldn't see what building it came from."

Ron stared at Nixon across the circle of officers. Lewis held his hard stare, his own gaze penetrating. _Her_ compass, hanging around Ron's neck grew heavier.

"Right, well we can assume there may be POW's in Foy…so don't shoot the first thing that moves when you get inside…and we better take this place quickly then. Dike, that means you", Sink finished and his tone grew serious. He regarded the men and nodded, "let's get this done, gentlemen".

Attempting to quell his pounding heart, Ron clenched his jaw and stared down Dike, who nodded absently and walked back to Easy with Winters right on his shoulder.

If Dike could not get the men into Foy quickly, securing it – the chances that any POW's would survive was slim to none. Swallowing his heart, breathing measurably through his nose, Ron avoided Nixon's further stares. Ron was already intent on giving Lewis what he knew he wanted…to be right up front and ready when Dike needed help from reinforcements.

Lew looked from Speirs' retreating form back into Foy. Her dog tags were heavy in his breast pocket. It was farfetched to hope that _she_ could be in Foy. Lewis certainly understood the impracticality of that, but he saw the raw and desperate spark in Ron's eye…he wasn't the only one to have hope and think of the possibilities…

Oooooooo

"LET'S GO! Keep it moving!" Lipton shouted across the line of men running into Foy.

"Covering Fire!" a shout came from the forest.

George paced his footing, following Dike in, his radio bouncing on his back and his rifle out in front of him.

Flashes of artillery sparkled from open windows in Foy, answered by the covering fire from Easy's line in the forest.

There were snipers, George knew that much…men running all beside him were being picked off with one clean shot.

_Keep running…keep going before they zero in on us with mortars_.

"Suppressing fire!" men shouted.

That's when the eighty-eight's began.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

Mounds of earth and snow flew up around them, the blows getting nearer.

"Keep moving, let's go!" Lipton called.

"Krauts in the open!" Liebgott shouted. German soldiers ran inside a hut and everyone opened fire on their retreating forms.

From beside George, Dike began to slow his pace out in the open, his head swiveling around wildly, "wait a minute, wait a minute…where's Foley?!" Bullets flew by their heads, as the men had to stand and wait for Dike to locate Lieutenant Foley. "Where the hell is first platoon?!" Dike yelled to no one. George's breath came out in gasps…they were going to get killed _standing_ out here. Dike looked around again then held his hand up, "HOLD UP!"

"Keep moving!" Lipton's voice called, further away now.

"EASY COMPANY! Hold up!" Dike screamed over the barrage of fire. Sick to his stomach and fighting the natural urge to find cover, George sank to his knee next to Dike.

From their position in the forest, Lewis' jaw was clenched…watching tensely beside Sink, Strayer, and Winters as Dike called the men to hold.

"Will you MOVE!" Winters screamed futilely over Lew's head and the fire and explosions. _What the fuck was Dike doing_? "Get out of there, MOVE!" Dick walked forward, gesturing wildly with his hand, the other gripping his rifle.

Directly behind them, Ron kept his eyes keenly on Dike's figure, watching as he shouted orders. He was going to get all of Easy killed out there. Ron's heart pounded with anxiety in his chest, if Dog didn't get in there quickly, Easy would be overrun.

Dike turned to George, "get me Foley on the radio."

"Sir, I think we should take cover", George offered instead, grabbing the radio receiver as the eighty-eight's began to target their location.

"What?!" Dike asked as dirt and debris exploded over them.

They both stood up and ran for cover, George calling into the receiver to Foley, "easy red, easy red, easy over". Foley responded as George and Dike threw themselves behind one of the large stacks of hay. "Stand by for orders!"

"Foley!" Dike screamed into the phone, "Foley you get back here where I can see God damnit!" he threw the receiver down onto the snow. "Fall back!"

"GO FORWARD!" Winters shouted.

Lew held his binoculars up, his breath catching in his chest as first platoon moved laterally into the open to hook up with Dike behind the hay. The Germans spotted them immediately and began targeting them.

Foley and Lipton made it to Dike's position at the same time, "what are we doing, Lieutenant?!" Foley yelled.

"Why are we stopped?!" Lipton demanded. Time was of the essence.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Looking out the other way, Dike screamed over the barrage, "FALL BACK! FALL BACK!"

From the radio, Captain Winters was calling for Dike, George held up the phone to Dike as Foley called to him again, "Lieutenant, what's the plan!?"

BOOM! BOOM!

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" Dike practically sobbed.

"You better get Dike on that radio to me now!" Winters' voice called seriously over the phone.

The ground shaking beneath them from the heavy artillery, the men began barking questions at Dike…everyone anxious to move, knowing how ridiculous their current position was.

"Captain Winters, sir!" George insisted to Dike, holding the receiver out to him.

"What's the plan?!" Foley kept shouting.

"What's going on, Lieutenant?!" Lipton said.

"Ok, ok! Foley, you take your men around the back of the village", Dike began, George looking incredulously at Foley, "and attack it from the rear!"

BOOM!

"We cannot stay here!" Lipton yelled in Dike's face.

"You want first platoon to go around and attack the back of the village by itself?!" Foley asked.

"We will provide suppressing fire!" Dike shouted stupidly.

"We're gonna be kind of alone out there, Lieutenant", Foley snapped back.

"We will proved suppressing fire!" Dike shouted again, slamming his fist onto the ground like a child.

George watched Foley crouch up disbelievingly, his jaw slack, he pulled his rifle up and with his men, ran. A sniper sought them out at once, one man getting shot instantly.

The receiver vibrating in his palm from shouting on its other end, George called out to Dike once more, "you need to talk to Captain Winters, sir!" Dike was in a stupor, he was not making any eye contact with anyone.

Lew watched, Sink and Strayer growing tense beside him, as Dike remained behind the bale of hay. Luz was kneeling in front of him, Lipton nearby…first platoon began a trail to the back of the village, being easily picked off by a sniper.

"Jesus Christ", Dick seethed.

"Suppressing fire NOW!" Lipton called to second platoon nearby. If first platoon was out there on this impossible, suicide mission, he would be damned if he didn't try to cover them. Peering out from the hay, Lip could see where the main sniper was hiding. Pulling his binoculars up, he spotted it, "sniper's in the building with the caved in roof!"

George relayed the message over to first, "sniper's in the building with the caved in roof!"

With first platoon now firing into the building with the sniper, and second platoon setting up mortars, Lip turned over to Dike…they couldn't move forward without orders, "sir…we are sitting ducks here! WE HAVE TO KEEP MOVING!" Dike flinched at his shout, his helmet was on the ground and he was gripping the lapels of his coat. There was no getting through to this.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Striding forward, closer to the front, Ron gripped his rifle, knowing it would be any minute before he was called upon. There was no one else Ron wanted to go in there…he needed to do it himself.

Every second that passed was a second given to the Germans to eliminate any POW's they may have; it was another second that Foy was out of their reach and victory further away.

Winters began to jog forward, gripping his weapon in front of him, "you've got to keep moving!" He was about to run out there himself.

Lewis stood up along with Sink as the Colonel spoke curtly to Winters, "Captain Winters!" Lew couldn't believe the rashness of Dick…he couldn't just run out there, as much as _he_ wanted to himself. Sink pointed at Dick, his voice harsh, "God damnit you cannot just run out there! You are the battalion commander, now come back here!"

His lips pressed thin, Dick turned back around to the forest, his blood pumping and not hearing a word Sink was saying to him. His eyes sought out the only man he knew could run into that and make it out alive, "SPEIRS GET YOURSELF OVER HERE!" Ron ran forward immediately at his cue, "get out there and relieve Dike and take that attack on in!"

Without speaking, Ron sprinted past Nixon and right into the fray.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

From her curled position on the ground, Grace jolted awake.

Squinting through the dull pain in her head and side, she felt the building shake. With each tremor, dust and snow from the ceiling floated down.

If the town wasn't taken quickly, their chance of survival as POW's was nil. Shifting up, Grace looked around for Colson. He was behind her, near the back of the building.

"You alright?" Grace called over to him, her voice raw. Not quick to respond, Colson looked at her in a daze. Grace's eyes went down to his leg…his old wound had reopened somehow, there was a deep pool of blood around him. "Jesus", she breathed.

POP POP POP POP

Rounds were being shot off above them…snipers were in the loft, shooting out the hole in the roof.

"What's happening?" Colson croaked out.

"We're taking Foy", she answered; she strained to hear any American voices over the blasts. Were they close? How long had it been going on? The snipers were still popping off rounds above her…this building was a target for mortars. She needed to get Colson and herself in a place of cover to prepare.

Ron ran in, dodging bullets and jumping through explosions, taking a direct route to Dike's slumped form.

He stopped in front of Dike, grabbing his coat and looking to his slack face, "I'm taking over". George looked over to Speirs as he called to Lip, "First Sergeant Lipton! What do we got?"

Lip turned to Speirs, "most of the company is spread around here…first platoon tried to take it back but they're stretched out, they're pinned down by a sniper…I believe he's in the building with the caved in roof".

Ron's eyes swept eagerly over the town, seeing the building with the caved in roof. "Alright, I want mortars and grenade launchers on the building til it's gone, when it's gone I want first to go straight in – forget going around….everybody else, follow me", with that, Ron got up and ran forward, further into the town.

"Yes sir", Lip nodded, smiling wryly over to George.

"Thank God, huh?" George grinned to Lip.

**BOOM!**

Her body moved on instinct and Grace was instantly on top of Colson, covering him from the blast that rocked their building.

Heavy dust rained down on them as they caught their breath.

Trying not to cough from the pain in her ribs, Grace looked over Colson, "you ok?"

He nodded weakly, "I think so…are you? You got it pretty bad last night".

"Not as bad as you've gotten it seems", she noted, gingerly crawling off him and taking note of his leg. "I gotta get something to stop the bleeding here". Snatching one of the torn burlap sacks, Grace managed to rip it into two pieces. Tying them together to create one long band, she wound it tightly around the biggest wound on Colson's thigh.

POP POP POP

BOOM! BOOM!

Ron was running, leading the company into Foy.

BOOM!

From beside him, a small barn blew to bits. The Krauts were targeting him now.

Falling to cover on the side of a building, Ron turned to Lip, "what do you see, Lipton?!"

"Infantry…a lot of infantry!" he responded.

"I Company is supposed to be on the other side of the town, do you see them?!" Ron shouted.

"No sir…I think they're gonna pull back if we don't make contact somehow, sir!"

Ron nodded, and without a thought for his safety, his heart pounding, he stood up, "that's right, wait here!"

George put his radio down as Speirs got up and ran into the German infantry alone, "what the hell?!" Lip knelt forward, providing covering fire.

Not quite believing what they were witnessing, George and Lip watched as Speirs _ran _across German territory and over to I Company, making contact.

The astounding thing was that the Germans didn't fire at him at first…they too were shocked at the display of absolute fearlessness.

His breath in his throat, George grinned manically to himself as Speirs, after contacting I, _came back_. His heart constricted at Speirs' ferocity…_Grace would have been proud, terrified and pissed off at him, but proud. Jesus…they had been _made _for another_, he thought sadly.

POP POP POP!

Rounds were growing closer to their building and Grace frowned, concentrating on keeping Colson from bleeding out. "Stay awake, Colson…stay with me", she urged…he was growing quieter and more unresponsive.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Three more mortars targeted and hit their building again, shaking the ceiling. Grace once again pushed them to the floor, covering Colson and flinching as a beam from the ceiling fell, crashing to the ground near to them.

Both of them coughing from the dust and debris from the blast, Grace was slow to get off of Colson, her side burning.

Suddenly, she was thrown off violently.

Landing like a rag doll a few yards away, her head cracked the ground, not expecting the impact.

"Ah…" Grace grimaced against the ground, her eyes searching for Colson and for what threw her off. Her sight was spinning and flickering, threatening to make her pass out again…when she was doused with ice-cold water. "Uh!" she gasped silently at the jarring sensation, unable to breathe.

"Stehen Sie amerikanisches Schwein auf!" The large German officer stood above her, an empty barrel of drinking water in his hands. Throwing the barrel across the room, he stalked over to Colson's still form. Grace saw his sidearm in his hand; dripping wet now and shivering, she pulled herself up to her knees as he cocked his weapon.

"No", she yelled, her voice hoarse.

**POP!**

Flinching at the sound, Grace's breathing came in short, stuttered gasps. Her eyes were stuck on Colson's body…now bleeding out from his head.

The sounds of fighting were dwindling from outside and Grace's heart broke, knowing how close she was from her men, from Ron…fearing what they would find when they cleared this building.

The Officer walked right to Grace, standing in front of her. She searched around, near her for anything to use as a weapon, her hands trembling violently from shivering.

The Officer slapped her across the cheek and grabbed her shirt, "on your knees", he grunted out, shoving Grace into a kneeling position in front of him.

Her shaking breath was visible as the Officer brought the gun up to her forehead.

Still defiant, Grace brought her eyes up to his hard face…she noticed he was wounded, blood staining his shoulder.

Gritting her teeth, she thought of Ron as the gun pressed to her skin.

_CLICK_

Grace gasped as the gun jammed. The Officer pulled the trigger again.

_CLICK_

Grunting, he threw the sidearm to the ground at Grace's knees and grabbed her by the throat, squeezing tight.

Grace saw stars as she fell back, the Officer falling atop her, still gripping her throat.

The room going black, Grace shoved her fingers roughly inside the Officer's wound; her fingers curling and twisting, ripping.

"Gah!" he yelled, his grip around her throat loosening as one hand came to pry her fingers out of him.

With his attention diverted and his weight off her, Grace grabbed for the discarded sidearm. Reaching it, she fluidly cocked it, put it up to his chest and pulled the trigger.

**POP!**

The force of the bullet pushed the Officer away from her. He clutched at his chest, groaning as Grace scooted away from him.

Keeping the gun out in front of her, shaking, she stood up and aimed again.

**POP!**

The bullet pierced his neck; he fell and moved no more.

The only sound that came roaring back to Grace's ears were her own measured gasps.

BANG!

The doors of the building kicked open.

Grace swung the sidearm in towards to door, squinting through the dust in the air.

"Grace?" a voice asked disbelievingly.

She gasped at the voice and kept the gun out in front of her as she took a shaky breath and squinted at his face, "Joe?"

Having heard the shots and ordered to clear out the building, Liebgott and Bull kicked in the doors. Joe was about to throw a grenade into the building when he saw Grace.

Joe was stunned; she was dripping wet, shaking, and stripped down to her undershirt, pants, and boots. As Grace slowly lowered the sidearm and looked over to a body near her, Joe looked to an equally stunned Bull.

Bull nodded and ran to the open doors, "MEDIC! I need a medic over here! It's Lieutenant Grant!"

Joe approached her, his eyes dropping to the ground seeing what she was looking at. A dead US paratrooper lay on the ground, a bullet hole in his forehead. Near them, a dead German officer was sprawled on the ground.

Joe looked back up to Grace, who was gazing back at him. "Are you shot?...are you hurt?" Unable to speak out of slight shock, she shrugged. He looked her over being up close now; her skin was nearly transparent and she was shaking, "Jesus, Grace". He put his rifle down and shrugged off his overcoat, slipping it around her shoulders.

"Thank you", she whispered, relieved at the warmth. Realizing what it meant that he was standing in front of her, she searched his eyes tiredly, "you took Foy".

Joe nodded, smirking softly, "yeah, yeah we did".

From outside the building, Ron was stalking into the cleared buildings like a mad man, his heart falling through his chest every time a building was found empty. Had there been any POW's? Where were they?

There were only a few more buildings left when he heard the shout from Sergeant Randleman.

"…it's Lieutenant Grant!"

Whirling around, Ron took off unthinking towards the voice, looking wildly for what building it came from. His stomach nearly emptied itself when he saw the Toccoa men gathered around the door of the building with the caved in roof. He had ordered mortars and grenade launchers on that building; if she was injured because of him…

George, Tab, and Don were up at the front of the door beside Bull when Speirs cleared a path straight to them.

Wordlessly, Bull nodded to Speirs and stood aside.

Ron walked into the dusty, blown out building fearing the worst.

Grace looked up to the door, a figure blocking the light…and her eyes fell onto Ron.

Seeing her pale, and shaking, her eyes caught his and suddenly he was in front of her; pushing the damp coat off her shoulders and slipping his onto her immediately. Throwing protocol out the door for the moment, knowing only Randleman and Liebgott were there, he pulled her gently into his arms, thanking God silently that she was here.

"Grace", he breathed, as he felt her trembling hands grasp his field jacket, "I thought…"

"I know", she whispered, wanting nothing more than to press her lips against his but knowing they could not.

He pulled back, his large, warm hands laid gently on either side of her face. Her teeth chattering still from the cold, she searched his face as his eyes glassed over…so relieved she was alive…he was speechless.

"Lieutenant Grant?!" Doc Roe ran into the room and Ron and Grace took a step away from one another, their reunion short-lived. Gene looked Grace over quickly; happily noting she was standing…also noting their new C.O., Speirs, had a tight hold of her hand. "I need to look you over, Grace".

Grace nodded, feeling Ron let go of her hand reluctantly. "Make sure she's stable, Doc", Ron requested, turning to her. His eyes were gentle while his voice wore a mask of authority, "Grace, you'll need to brief Winters when you're all cleared by Roe".

"Understood", she murmured back, her throat hurting.

He held her gaze for a moment, trying to impose _how much _he had missed her, _how much_ he was stunned and relieved she was all right. She smiled softly at him, understanding, and he held his breath, nodding at turning to the door before his emotions got the best of him.

Leaving his heart inside the building with Grace, Ron walked outside.

"Sir, is Lieutenant Grant ok?"

Ron turned towards Talbert, noting the group of men quieted instantly at the question. He nodded, "Doc Roe's looking her over now, but she's standing…she's ok".

As Speirs walked away, Tab, George, and the rest of the Toccoa men breathed a sigh of relief. "Can you believe that…that she was in here the whole time?" Tab asked Don and George.

"I can't…it's fucking unheard of", Don breathed.

Joe emerged from the building, leaving Roe in there with Grace. George turned to him, "is she alright in there, Lieb?"

Joe nodded, "you should've seen her when I walked in…and there's a dead Kraut officer and a dead paratrooper on the floor…somethin' happened in there, boys".

Ron made his way across the field, approaching Winters and Nixon.

"Well done, Lieutenant Speirs", Winters began, "there isn't another man in the ETO who could have gotten the job done".

"Thank you, sir".

"What do we got?" Nixon asked, his eyes tight.

"Still wading through the wounded and dead", Ron began, "corralling Kraut prisoners in the west side". He took a short breath, "and we found Lieutenant Grant".

Nixon's eyes grew wide as Dick's jaw slackened, "you found Lieutenant Grant…?" Dick asked, the implication obvious.

"She's alive…Doc Roe is looking at her now", Ron explained, looking over to Nixon who was nearly panting. "She's prepared to brief us once he's done."

"Where is she?" Nixon asked, his heart throwing itself against his chest.

"She's with Roe in the building with the caved in roof", Ron replied, knowing how Lew felt.

"Sirs!"

The three officers turned to see Roe approaching them, "Doc Roe", Winters began, "how are the wounded?"

Roe nodded, "we're sorting them out, sir…bullet wounds, mostly. Perconte took a hit to the ass, sir, but he's ok".

"And Lieutenant Grant?" Winters asked.

"She's stable, sir. No surface wounds…", he started, shaking his head, "a few bruised ribs, though…she's got a slight concussion, dehydration, hypothermia…and some angry looking red marks around her throat, sir". Heavy silence greeted the news first as Roe gestured back into town, "she's in the makeshift CP ready for her briefing".

"Thank you, Doc", Winters nodded, dismissing him.

"Dick…", Lew began.

Dick nodded to him, "go ahead, we'll be behind you after I speak to Foley and Lipton."

Lew took off without a glance back into the town.

He spotted the temporary CP and headed right into it.

Opening the door and looking in, he saw Grace. She was sitting in a chair in front of a fire, hugging a large coat around her frame.

She turned to the sound of the door opening and Lew was struck by how pale she appeared. "Gracie". She was about to stand when Lew rushed over to her, "don't get up, it's alright".

He knelt down to her, holding her face in his hands, "Lew", she smiled at him, "I missed you".

"I thought I'd lost you", he said, shaking his head. She smiled again, a tear skipping down her cheek. "Oh Gracie…you're alright…you're back with us, and you're gonna be ok", he held her to him gently, not wanting to hurt her further. Leaning back and wiping her tears away, he searched her face, "you ok to give a briefing?" She nodded, and he reached into his breast pocket, "I've got something of yours".

As Lew produced her dog tags, Grace smiled. He slipped them over her head as she studied his face; unshaven with purple under his eyes, "thank you, Lewis". He pressed a kiss to the side of her lips as voices were heard just outside.

Lew stood up as the door opened and looked to Grace, frustratingly sighing as she stood up too.

"Grace", Dick said, his voice somber as he walked up to her. Gently grabbing her hand and looking her over, he motioned her back to the chair. "are you ok to give us a briefing of what happened?"

"Yes, sir", she nodded, her eyes skipping to Ron's presence, standing beside Lew.

Dick looked over to Ron, "Lieutenant Speirs…soon to be _Captain_ Speirs is Easy's new C.O."

Grace kept her eyes on Ron's handsome face, her heart warming, "congratulations, Captain".

Ooooooo

Grace took Lewis, Dick, and Ron through how she was captured; explaining why she removed her Lieutenant bars, medic badge, and dog tags. She didn't mention her compass, she simply glanced over at Ron, who stealthily placed his hand over his chest, telling her he was wearing it.

She was _here_, in front of them, alive…yet Ron was nervous, listening to her story of what had happened over the past few days. She spoke of the two US paratroopers who had been taken from Bastogne's bombing…the young man who was shot outside after requesting a fire, their clothes being set aflame.

His heart pounded when she described how she snuck outdoors to check on the young man, finding him shot against the side of the building. It was _her_ who had signaled the SOS code…and Ron's insides burned at the image of the young German kicking Grace on the floor at her infraction.

When she began to describe the morning's events…the building being targeted because of the snipers, being thrown off the other young paratrooper, drinking water poured on her…Ron was beside himself. She was being so brave, retelling the horrifying story.

"How did you manage to get the gun?" Winters inquired gently.

Grace kept her eyes on Winters while she spoke, "after the German officer shot Colson…he slapped me, yanked me up, and held the gun to my forehead". Feeling the tension rise in the room she continued, "he pulled the trigger…twice…but the gun jammed." She bit her trembling lip, breathing evenly and cursing herself for getting emotional. Turning her eyes to her lap as Dick sat forward, she shook her head, "it's alright, I'm ok…he threw the gun down and grabbed my throat…he was already injured in his shoulder, so I shoved my fingers into his wound and twisted", she held her fingers in front of her, mimicking the movement. "He took one hand off me and I grabbed the gun from the floor and shot him in the chest…he stumbled back, I stood up and shot him once more, this time in the neck…and it was over. That's when Liebgott and Randleman kicked the doors open". She looked up, her eyes glassy, "I heard nothing from the Germans…no plans of attack, no mention of any more artillery or anything…nothing".

Silence greeted her at first and she examined their stunned and exhausted faces. Lewis was rubbing his hands together, his focus on her throat; she knew he could see the red marks from the Officer's hands. She looked to Ron, whose eyes were tender on her. She pulled his coat around her tighter as she shifted under his loving gaze.

Dick was staring at her face gently, measuring her discomfort level; he smiled tightly, nodding at her when her eyes met his, "there's no intelligence that's worth a life, Grace…and I know I can speak for everyone when I say we are all relieved to see you".

Grace nodded to him, "thank you, Dick".

"As far as Easy's seeable future, I was just informed we will be taking two more towns…Novelle and Rachamps, in the coming days". Dick turned to Grace, "you will be spending tonight at the aid station for observation…based on how you do and how you're feeling, you'll join us at CP for the taking of the other towns – staying behind with Lew, myself, and Colonel Sink…understood?"

"Yes sir", Grace nodded, already damn sure she'd be getting out of any aid station as soon as she could.

Dick stood up, "someone will take you to the aid station later, until then, sit tight". He smiled at her and nodded to Lewis and Ron who stood up as well.

Grace's heart sank, she was hoping for a moment alone with Ron. He discreetly looked to her as well, a pained look in his eye. Suddenly Grace realized, as her C.O., their 'relationship' was even more unethical now. She wanted him to know how she felt, especially after her ordeal…now she was unsure if she would ever be able to tell him.

Looking to the door, her heart stuttered seeing Lew standing in it, his back to them, with Ron still in the room. Grace stood up, a lump in her throat, unsure of what to say or do.

They stood there, looking at one another, saying nothing; but it was the kind of nothing that meant _everything_.

Ron strode to her in one giant step, "I can't stay right now", he whispered, his heart breaking.

Grace was numb again, she nodded, "I know".

"This belongs to you", he gently pulled the compass over his head and draped it over hers. Reaching forward, he lifted the compass charm to his lips, and keeping his eyes on hers, he kissed it softly; watching as her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Ron", she breathed.

"Ron", Lew called over his shoulder pointedly as he walked from the doorway.

Ron nodded in his direction, anxiety filling him at leaving her; he just got her back…and now he has to leave her. Capturing her eyes once more with his, he quickly bent down and placed a warm kiss on her lips. Then, gathering all his strength, he pulled away and kept his eyes on her as he walked out of the door.

Ooooooo

A couple hours and a few visits from Gene later, Grace was nursing a bad headache and keeping warm beside the waning fire, her fingers absently playing with the compass around her neck. Gene had set up a cot nearby for her, but told her not to fall asleep because of her mild concussion…Grace hadn't even bothered with it.

A knock rapped on the door as it pushed open, revealing Don, George, and Tab. "Gracie?" Don called in cautiously.

"Hey", Grace called, smiling and standing up as they came in through the door.

No one made a move toward her at first.

Tab moved forward, gently putting his arms around her waist, "holy shit, Grace", he murmured into her hair.

She pulled back, looking him over, "you ok?"

"You're asking _me _that?" Tab replied as George stepped to her, embracing her.

"How you doing, Grace?" he asked, his usual joking tone cautious and worried.

"I'm much better now", she said into his neck.

"Back from the fucking dead", he rasped, his throat growing tight.

She smiled at him as they pulled apart, "I'm right here", she assured him. She looked to Malarkey, her sight going blurry as she took in his pale face, "Don".

"Hey Angel", he stepped forward, enveloping her.

The intensity of his hold worried her, "you alright?"

She felt him nod, "you're here…", he trailed off and cleared his throat, "Skip and Penk…" Grace squeezed her eyes shut as she realized what he was trying to tell her; he felt her grip on him tighten. He took a breath, "I'm here to take you to the aid station".

She pulled back, "ah…that's why you're here to say hello".

Don shrugged and sniffled, "well…also because Buck's at the aid station". Grace looked up at him seriously, "and he'll be there one more night…and he needs to see you."

"Is he ok?"

Don nodded, "he's…ok…but I was sent off the line for a couple hours after Skip and Penk, and you…" he trailed off again and Grace reached down and held his hand. "Buck, he wanted to know everything that had happened…so he thinks you're gone too."

Ooooooo

Don and Grace arrived at the aid station early that evening. Don led her through the small camp to a large tent for soldiers who were treated and relaxing. She was expected here…there was a bed set up in here for her.

He turned to her, "I think you should stay behind me…don't want to scare him".

Grace nodded, "I agree with you".

She followed close behind him inside the tent. The men inside were well maintained, morale seemed calm, but up…there were card games and no extreme-care patients lying around.

"Hey Buck", Don came to a stop in front of her and Grace pressed herself to his back, making sure she was concealed.

"Malark", Buck's voice said. He sounded tired but well and Grace found herself choking up…she had thought it would be ages until she would see him again. "What are you doin' here, buddy? You dogs take Foy already?"

"Yes sir…got a new C.O. too"

"Jesus…who's that?" he inquired, and Grace could hear him sit up in his bed.

"Speirs", Don deadpanned, a smile in his voice.

Buck scoffed a laugh, "you've got to be shittin' me".

Don shook his head, "I'm afraid not…you should have seen him running through German fire to make contact with Item Company". From behind him, Grace frowned, not knowing that detail…actually not knowing _how_ Ron managed to become Easy's C.O. at all. Don cleared his throat, "there's something I brought for you".

"A pack of smokes?" Buck guessed.

Don chuckled, "I'll spare a smoke, but no. Now…you gatta steal yourself".

"What are you talkin' about?" Buck asked, his brow furrowed as Don stepped aside, revealing Grace. "…Gracie?"

"Hi Buck", she whispered.

Buck stood up at once and Don held his hand out in front of Grace, "careful…she's got bruised ribs."

Buck's eyes grew alarmed as he stepped forward and held her gently, "Jesus it's good to see you, Angel…and you're gonna tell me what the hell happened to you".

Grace smiled and nodded toward the empty cot beside his, "I'm ordered off the line for the night…I'll tell you all about it." She looked to Don, "and Don here will stay long enough to tell us both how Speirs took over Easy".

"Really?" Don asked, an uneasy expression gracing his features.

Buck smiled fully for the first time in weeks, "oh yes".

Ooooooo

Don remained at the aid station for a couple more hours, telling Buck and Grace how Speirs came to be Easy's C.O. When he described what George had told him, how Ron had run through the Germans to get to Item and then came back, Buck turned his attention to Grace's face; her expression intense and thrilled at the same time. It had been a good source of entertainment for Buck.

Before Don departed, he promised to come get her when Buck left. After he was gone for the night, Buck and Grace talked.

She told him about how she had been captured, what had happened while she was in Foy, and her experience the morning of the attack.

Buck had remained quiet and stoic throughout her whole story, letting her whisper in the dark. They moved their cots closer together as to keep talking and not wake the others around them. Grace had remarked that it felt like a sleepover.

It was difficult for Grace to retell the story again, and that surprised her. It felt like she was back there, in the moment…like she had the moment to do over and make different choices. Could she had saved Stefano, saved Colson, gotten them out of there? What more could she have done? But she could never go back…those moments, those memories were set down in stone, they were permanent. So she had to watch herself make the same choices over and over…she was alive, but it was condemnation if anything.

She made sure to take care of Buck…to tell him the men were doing ok, that the group was and always would be together. They promised one another that when the war ended, they would get the group together for a drink.

In the early morning hours when Buck drifted off to sleep, Grace realized the absolute juxtaposition of their life at war. How everyone's life was a short time in expectation; a time in which sadness and joy kiss each other at every moment. There was a quality of sadness that pervades all the moments of life. It seems that there was no such thing as clear-cut pure joy, but that even in the happiest moments, we sense a tinge of melancholy. In every satisfaction, there was an awareness of limitations. In every success, there was a bit of failure. Behind every smile, there was a tear. In every embrace, there was loneliness. And in all forms of light, there was the knowledge of surrounding darkness.

The next morning, Don stuck to his word and came for her. They both said a tearful goodbye to Buck, swearing to see one another again.

Ooooooo

Over the next few days, Grace stood beside Lewis, Dick, Strayer, and Sink while Easy took Novelle and Rachamps.

Grace kept a keen eye on Ron, watching and admiring him in battle. Now knowing about his take-over in Foy, she was enthralled at the difference in the men. They were a total unit, the epitome of a cohesive company. She could not have been more proud of her men or of Ron.

However, she had to be proud of Ron from afar. They hadn't been alone or relatively near one another since Foy.

Although it was painful for Grace to have not had the perfect reunion following their separation, she couldn't help but feel closer to him than ever. When you begin to _really know_ someone, really _love_ someone, all their physical characteristics begin to disappear. You dwell in their energy, recognize the scent of his skin. You see only the essence of the person, not the shell.

Night fell after Easy quickly took the village of Rachamps.

A convent took in the company that night; it was first night for a majority of the men spent indoors in a month. The sisters there brought in their choir to sing…it was heaven.

In the warm candlelight of the chapel, the mood of the men was relaxed and calm.

Grace stood, leaning against a pew in the back, her eyes searching the men. From his position on a cot, Perconte caught Grace's eye and winked. She smiled softly back, counting the company's losses in her head. Easy had come into Belgium with 121 men and officers plus 24 replacements…145 total. They were going out with 63.

Hearing footsteps, Grace saw Ron walking her way, Lipton staring after him then sitting back down in his pew.

Ron stopped a runner near Grace, handing him a paper, "get this to Winters at Battalion". The runner murmured a 'yes sir' and scurried out of the chapel. Drawn to her like the moon caught in orbit, Ron strode to Grace, taking her hand and leading her to a secluded corridor of the chapel.

Smiling softly to her, he sat them down on a rug against the wall. She closed her eyes, listening to the choir, hearing Ron slip off his packs from his shoulders beside her; enjoying the warmth his body offered. He stopped moving and sat close to her, both of them breathing in sync.

After another minute, Grace felt his hand on her face, gently caressing…then her neck…he was breathing deep and replacing every touch with a lingering kiss.

Feeling tears slip down her cheeks, Ron looked into her eyes, now open and on him.

"Ron", she began, whispering.

"I'm so sorry", he interrupted her.

"For what?"

"For leaving you _again_".

She shook her head slightly, bringing her hands up to his face, smiling as he pulled her close to him, "no…you have nothing to be sorry for."

He stroked her face, his hand coming to rest on her jaw as he leaned forward and kissed her. Sighing into her mouth as she responded, she dragged her fingers into his hair and kissed him back with everything she had. He pulled away after a moment, his hand on her neck, "I should have told you so long ago…"

"I know, me too", she said, keeping her face near his, their noses touching.

His breath was shaking as he held her close, "I thought I would never get to say it to you".

She nodded as another tear slipped down her cheek, "I know…"

He leaned in again, kissing her, breathing in her scent and pulling back, "since the first time I saw you, I have belonged to you completely. I love you."

Grace sighed, breathless, smiling at his words dripping with fervor, "I love you too".

He smiled back at her, marveling in the freedom of his confession, indulging in the pleasure of her hearing it. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his once again. He gave himself into the kiss, gently pulling her closer.

Now it had become indispensable to him to have her near him; he could never let her go again. Never again would he want her face away from the close clutch of his arm.

He wanted to remain like this forever…with his heart hurting him in an exquisite pain that was also life to him.

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**This was a chapter I had long been waiting to write..wow – we got there!**

**Thanks so much for reading.**

**Happy late-Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrated. **


	37. Chapter 37

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**I am certainly not going to make any excuses for my prolonged and egregious absence...but I absolutely adore every single one of you who are still with me. I appreciate your forgiveness for my self-imposed sabbatical. I have NO INTENTIONS of ever discontinuing this tale, I love it too much and I know how it feels to love a story you're reading only to have its author decide they're done. I won't ever do that. I re-read my entire story a couple times while I was 'off' and away for the holidays just to make sure I'm on the right track and I know where I'm going with this.**

**THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to all who are reading and reviewing! **

"_**There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another – nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness."  
>- Alexandre Dumas, 'The Count of Monte Cristo'<strong>_

_She was following Chuck…it was cold and snowing…she didn't know where she was, for it was dark all around her save for the nearby trees and the crunching of dead pine needles underfoot._

_ "Where's Lew?" She called out, her voice sounded far away…like she was underwater._

_Chuck didn't answer, he just kept walking ahead of her; Grace had to half-jog to keep up with him._

_She wondered why she was so cold…she was shaking. She looked down to see herself exposed, completely bare and naked to the elements._

_Initially horrified, Grace knelt down immediately, throwing her arms around herself to cover up her modesty. Shivering, she looked up…and instead of seeing Chuck, Ron was staring back at her lovingly._

_ Warmth spread across her pale skin, "Ron…", she whispered._

_Ron smiled softly, erotically…then in a blur, lunged forward and grabbed her neck._

_Gasping, Grace looked up pleadingly into his face….finding the large German Officer sneering back at her._

Jerking herself awake, Grace grabbed at her throat.

"Grace?" Ron softly spoke.

She looked to him, beside her in the jeep - catching her breath and casually dismissing her outburst, noticing his distressed expression, "sorry…it's alright…just a dream". She squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose; she had only dozed off. Hearing Lip cough behind them, Grace shifted in the passenger seat, "you holding up ok, Lip?"

Lipton nodded, grimacing as his coughing fit slowed, "yeah, I'll be ok". He smiled in thanks as she handed over her canteen of water and turned back around.

The jeep skidded over muddy streets into the worn out town of Hagenau. The small town was nestled near a river; American forces occupied this side…Germans were on the other; the sound of the war was not far away. As they drove further in and past the trucks unloading the men, a mortar hit nearby, sending rubble trickling down a collapsed building.

Unflinching from another mortar blast hitting near them, Grace realized just how far they had made it into the war. She reached over stealthily and wove her fingers in with Ron's, keeping her face forward. Following Rechamps, a feeling of hope had flooded them all; they felt if they treaded carefully, they could live through this…they could experience life in a world without war.

"Here we are", Ron announced, squeezing her hand and pulling the jeep alongside a large, beat up building, "company CP".

Grace lithely jumped out of the jeep, turning immediately to help Lip out; he had gotten pneumonia and was slowly getting better…very slowly.

"You're too good to me, Gracie", Lip muttered to her. She smirked and shook her head, hooking his arm with hers.

"There are beds in there…with fresh sheets I'm told", Ron offered, "you should go and lay down, Lipton". His eyes looked to Grace, "I'm heading to the supply truck, I'll be back". Grace nodded to him, a soft smile on her lips as he quickly winked at her and walked away.

"'The Lieutenant and the Captain'…makes for a romantic sounding movie", Lip teased after a moment of silence as Grace snorted.

"Oh hush", she chided.

"Hey Gracie…Lip!" They both turned to George's voice as he bounded up to them. "Need a hand?"

"We always could, George", Lip answered.

"What's the craic, Georgie?" Grace asked as she followed him, Lip still on her arm, into the makeshift CP.

The three of them walked inside the large room, glancing around. A large grand piano sat to the left with a couple couches and armchairs decorated the rest of the room. It certainly had seen better days.

"You'll never guess who's back in town", George prompted, putting down a box of supplies. He turned to Grace, who was helping Lip settle down on the couch. "Good old Webster…back from the hospital".

"Really?" Lip inquired, his tone guarded. From above him, Grace turned to George and scrutinized his sarcastic expression.

George nodded, "yep…he was shooting his mouth off…asking about Skip, Guarnere, and Toye, where they were and such".

"Are you kidding?" Grace asked, incredulous that a veteran like Web would be so careless.

"Oh yes", George confirmed, unloading the supplies he'd carried in as Grace skipped out the door to grab the rest from the jeep.

Leaning over the back of the jeep, Grace reached for the remaining box of supplies.

"Lieutenant Grant, I can get that for you", Grace turned to Private Vest's voice, Ron was walking beside him.

Grace yanked the box out of the back and nodded to Vest who scooped it up, "thank you, Vest". He nodded and walked inside CP and she turned to Ron, "what are the orders?"

Ron shook his head slowly, "nothing yet…but I'm sure they'll want something from us again". His eyes bored into hers as he took a breath and a step closer, "you _are_ the leader of second platoon…and if they call on us, they're going to expect second platoon to go…"

"And I'll be there to lead them…I'm perfectly capable of doing that, and then some", Grace assured, "even though the men could use some rest".

"I know", he agreed, sighing and looking over the war-torn town. His jaw tensed slightly and his voice dipped low as he whispered, "you are more than capable, that I know, I've seen you in action…" his eyes landed on hers again, "I just _need_ you to be careful".

She took a breath as her heart skipped a beat, "I will be". Her eyes held a promise that he wordlessly understood.

Standing on the haggard streets of Hagenau, Grace felt the physical distance between them stretch further. She longed to touch him…have him touch her…their obligation and stance in the paratroopers prevented any real privacy; of course his seniority above her didn't help either.

She knew he craved her as well. Grace could feel it in his gaze, in the way his hand held hers tightly, in the way he kissed her…always more desperate than the last; privacy being hard to come by.

Ron wanted greatly to reach out to her. His heart constricting, knowing he could not…at least not here, he would have to make sure her room was beside his. He smiled softly at her face as they both turned and walked inside CP.

This was what their fleeting private moments had turned into: a few precious minutes, spent keeping their distance, and exchanging loaded and heartfelt promises and words.

Grace walked toward George, grabbing a blanket for Lipton off the top of the supply box. George winked at her, seeing Speirs follow in after her. Ron stopped in front of Vest, inspecting the box in his arms, before walking into an adjacent room.

"Hey…look who it is", George started, "nice digs, huh Web?"

Grace strode across the room, blanket in arm, to cover Lip up as she looked to whom George was speaking to…Webster stood in the doorway.

Web nodded, "Lieutenant Grant…Sergeant Lipton…you feeling alright?"

"He's got pneumonia", Grace clarified, throwing the blanket over Lip and sitting on the table in front of him.

"Sorry to hear that", Web offered.

George scoffed, "what are you sorry about? He's alive; he's got a couch, a goddamned blanket…snug as a bug".

"Yeah", Lip agreed, smirking at Grace.

"Uh…Sergeant Malarkey sent me over here…said to check with the C.O. to see if I should be in second platoon", Web said.

Grace looked over her shoulder at him and nodded, "I'm in charge of second…but have a seat, Webster…we'll get you situated".

Taking a seat by the piano, Web looked over to Lip, "how long have you been sick?"

Lip rolled his eyes as he handed Grace a few report papers, "long enough".

Vest walked back in, another set of boots trailing behind him, "is this the company CP for Easy?" an unfamiliar voice asked over the room.

Grace put down the papers she was reading, Lip shifted and answered, "yes, sir".

"As you were", the voice commanded, "Lieutenant Jones looking for Captain Speirs".

Grace looked up at the young, fresh-faced Second Lieutenant who's attention was solely on Lip. Amused, Lipton looked to her and she spoke up, "he's on his way, Lieutenant Jones…why don't you sit down?" He looked incredibly nervous to find a woman in paratroopers.

Jones nodded slowly, his expression perplexed, "uh, thank you umm…" he trailed off, obviously unaware of what he should call her as he walked around the couch, his eyes on her, a frown on his face.

Grace pointedly looked down to the bars on her collar, "…First Lieutenant Grant", she clarified.

"First Lieutenant Grant", Jones nodded, his shoulders stiff. He walked over, took his rifle off his shoulders, and looked to Web, "what platoon are you in?"

"Oh we're about to find that out", Web said, a smile in his voice.

Grace turned back to Lip who wore a wry smile. She sighed, "you know you should head to the beds before Ron gets back…he'll give you hell", she whispered.

About to retort, Lip stopped himself, looking past Grace, "Captain Speirs…this is Lieutenant…"

Jones shot up to attention from his seat as Grace looked over her shoulder.

Ron strode forward into the room, his eyes landing on Grace first then Lip near her. He held a large golden clock in his hand and his helmet in the other. _Looting bastard_, Grace thought sarcastically, a small smile on her lips as Ron cut Lip off mid-sentence, "listen, for Christ's sake will you go back and sack out…there's some beds back there with fresh sheets". Ignoring Jones, Ron turned to the piano, setting down the clock.

"I will", Lip muttered as Grace gave him an _I-told-you-so _smirk, "just tryin' to make myself useful".

"Listen up", Winters walked in then, Lew in tow, both their faces grave, "regiment wants a patrol…for prisoners."

Lew looked to Ron then to Grace, "this one comes straight from Colonel Sink so...it's not my idea".

Dick nodded and spoke to Ron and Grace, "since the river is the main line of resistance, we're gonna have to cross it to get to them."

Grace's heart fell a little…she knew there would be a patrol soon, she just wished it wasn't on their first night here.

"What do we need to do?" Ron asked dryly.

Dick turned to him, "there's a three story building on the enemy's side up the embankment…we know it's occupied. You can have fifteen men…think about who you want leading the patrol. We'll need a lead scout, a translator, and I've got the entire battalion on covering fire".

"When?" Ron flicked his gaze to Grace's contemplative expression.

"Tonight zero one hundred".

Ron nodded, "yes sir". He looked down, thinking…he knew who would be the best choice to lead the patrol…but his heart lurched at putting her back in the line of fire.

"Speirs", Winters called, "I want this to be as fool proof and as safe as possible".

Lew nodded, "yeah, don't take any chances on this one, we're too far along for that". He walked forward and spoke to Grace and Lip, "everybody doing ok?"

"We're grand, Lew", Grace responded, turning back to Lip, her eyes flickering to Ron and Dick in discussion.

Lew noticed the new Lieutenant then, still rigidly standing behind them, "who are you?"

"Lieutenant Jones, sir".

"Right…our West Pointer", Lew replied, walking over and looking his clean uniform up and down. "When did you graduate?"

"June sixth, sir".

Grace and Lip shared a knowing glance overhearing that. She could hear the exasperation in Lew's tone, "June sixth…of last year?"

"D-Day, yes sir", Jones said.

Lew let out an amused giggle, "alright…don't get hurt".

As Winters and Lew made to leave, Ron walked over to the back of the couch and leaned down against it; his eyes were tired as they searched Grace's face. She could feel the apprehension and exasperation rolling off his tensed shoulders.

From behind them, Jones spoke to Dick, "sir, I'd like to volunteer for the patrol".

Grace turned around discreetly and looked at Dick, who looked over Jones' form; his expression not amused, and then spoke directly to Ron, "Speirs…I'll talk to you in an hour?"

Ron nodded, "yep". He turned his attention to Grace and Lip, "we need to figure out who we're gonna send on this…we're a little short on officers…do you think a non-com could lead this?"

Grace set her eyes on Ron evenly, knowing he was trying to discourage any enthusiasm on her part, "I can think of a few options…" she offered, trying hard to understand where he was coming from in respect to how protective he had become over her.

Ron's eyes softened, thanking her, "Malarkey…Martin…"

"Grant", Lip added pointedly. Grace looked to him, her heart swelling in pride, knowing Lip was aware she wanted to lead the patrol. She turned her gaze back onto Ron, his eyes exploring hers despairingly. Lip continued, "honestly sir, most of the NCO's could use a rest".

"He's right", Grace murmured, attempting to impart her desire to lead this. She had had a rest, she sat out the siege on Novelle and Rechamps…the other men didn't have that luxury – it was only right that she lead…let alone that she was the platoon leader. By the resigned look on Ron's face, he knew they were right.

"Captain?" Jones called, stepping forward, "request permission to go on the patrol".

Grace clenched her jaw, looking up to Ron. "No", he said simply, his voice gravelly, "you don't have any experience." He sighed and stood up, "Grace?" He turned to her and nodded, "you're leading this patrol….tell Heffron, Ramirez and McClung they're going." He sighed, despising himself for having to put her in danger; he didn't know how to walk this line…how to love her yet lead her and expect himself not to have an emotional reaction to it.

"Yes sir", she replied, knowing by looking in his face that Ron didn't like the idea of her out on the front again. Grace pulled her bag over her shoulder, slung her rifle, and pointed to Webster, "uh, this is Private Webster".

Web strode forward, "yes, I'm Private Webster from first platoon, I just got back from the hospital and Lieutenant Foley told me to go to second, but Sergeant Malarkey said…"

"Fine, go to second…take uh…" he gestured to Jones, obviously having forgotten his name.

"Lieutenant Jones", Lip reminded him.

Ron nodded, feeling the room close in on him, feeling Grace's worried eyes on his face, "Grace, get to second and take Lieutenant and Webster with you…OP2".

Grace watched anxiously as Ron's eyes darted to the ground, avoiding hers. With a final square of his shoulders, he turned and walked outside.

Ooooooooo

Once outside, Grace turned to Jones and Web, "I know where OP2 is…stick close and follow me, the Krauts have been targeting moving objects all morning".

They stuck near to the buildings, rifles out. With every mortar hit and crack of an MG, Grace realized how green Jones was and how out-of-commission Webster was; they were both flailing and ducking with every sound.

"Are there any other officers in the platoon?" Jones inquired to Webster.

"Just Lieutenant Grant", Web answered, "she's the platoon leader…and Sergeant Malarkey who I hear is getting a battlefield commission".

"What?" Grace asked…she hadn't heard that.

ZIIINNNGGG

Knowing the sound of another mortar coming in, Grace pushed them forward, "they've got us zeroed, it's right over here".

"All clear! All clear!" a voice called out as the stopped beside a balcony leading to OP2.

She hoisted herself over the top of the stone railing, the two of them following right behind her.

Walking right into the building, she heard masculine voices from up the stairs. Taking the stairs by two, she came to a large room with bunk beds…all her men that were awake gathered around in groups, coffee in their hands, cigarettes on their lips.

"Hey fellas", Grace said softly, all of them greeting her in return.

"How's it goin' Lieutenant?" Heffron asked, a small smile on his lips.

"This taken?" Web pointed to a bunk.

Ramirez shook his head, "nope".

"Don", Grace said walking forward, gesturing to Jones, "Lieutenant Jones".

Don nodded, "Sergeant Malarkey, platoon sergeant".

Jones stuck his hand out, "congratulations on the battlefield commission".

Grace grimaced and turned to the one trooper who she thought was responsible for telling Web that lie. She knowingly looked back at Joe's smug grin, who sniggered with McClung and winked at her.

"What?" Don asked, perplexed.

"They're making you an officer, no?" Jones said.

Don looked to her, and Grace sighed, shaking her head. He caught Joe smirking at Web and he knew they had played a joke. "You must be thinking of first sergeant Lipton".

"My mistake", Jones offered. He looked to Grace, "how long have you been in the paratroopers, Lieutenant?" She looked up to Jones' blunt question; she couldn't help but hear the hue of condescension in his voice.

Feeling Don's stare along with the rest of the men, Grace answered smoothly, "I've been with Easy since 1942…and before that I jumped with the Brits in North Africa in '41".

His arrogant stare softened and he nodded, "so that's how many combat jumps?"

"That makes three for me", Grace said quietly, honestly…if not slightly offended.

Jones nodded and shared his attention with Don, "do you want to introduce me to the men?"

Don sighed, his patience obviously being tested, "well…some are sleeping downstairs…"

"And the rest are right here", Grace finished for him. When Jones turned away, Grace shared a heavy look with Don.

Frustrated with the new meat and feeling protective over Grace – even though she could hold her own – Joe, Babe and McClung fixed the young Lieutenant with a pointed stare, coffee cups in hand.

Growing uneasy with the stares of the men, Jones turned back to Don and Grace, "sergeant, a patrol's being planned for tonight…"

Grace snapped her gaze to him, wanting to remain discreet in front of her exhausted men, "Jones…I can take it from here". She nodded to him and Don, leading them over to the window; it was _her _patrol, _her _ platoon…she needed to be the one giving orders here. She had been through too much now to be fighting for her platoon with an untrusting, inexperienced Lieutenant. Glancing up, she saw the men now gathered around Web's bunk, knowing the rest of the men were now badgering him for information. "Colonel Sink wants a patrol over the river tonight at zero one hundred…fifteen men." Don sighed, his eyes tired and disbelieving. Her heart sank with him and she nodded, "I know…this comes directly from Battalion. We go over the river, collect who we can, then set a delayed bomb in the building. The battalion will cover fire from our banks." Don nodded along with her explanation. "The entire patrol is being handled with the utmost care and should take no longer than fifteen minutes. Winters, Nixon, and Speirs want this as fool proof and as safe as possible".

"Who do they want?" Don asked solemnly.

"For now, Speirs specifically wants Heffron, Ramirez, and McClung…and me leading the patrol…but if I could put money on it, they're gonna call on second to fill it out".

"That would leave us with just over fifteen".

"That's right." Grace nodded, "I want you sitting out this go 'round, Malark". He held her gaze and she could see the tension lift from his face at her request. Malarkey was the last person who should be going on a patrol.

"The Germans haven't made any attempts to cross the river themselves?" Jones asked.

Don shook his head, "they have roofs over their heads, sir, just like us…nobody wants to do anything stupid this late in the game, right?"

Grace stepped forward to the men, knowing it was time she tell them, "listen up! I've got some bad news…" she studied all the men's faces looking back at her, their eyes tired, "there is a patrol set for tonight…and so far, Speirs wants McClung…"

McClung spoke, "we know…"

"Yeah we just fuckin' heard", Heffron said.

"Webster here told us", Ramirez drawled.

Grace held a sarcastic smirk while appraising Webster's grimacing features, _some things never change_, as the phone rang and Don picked it up.

"Easy white…yeah, uh huh…ok…alright, out", he hung up and turned to the men and Grace, "PX rations just came in…including winter shoe packs".

"Beautiful", Grace snorted.

"I know…finally, right?" he snarked then continued, "also…we got showers", he finished, turning to Grace.

"Well….not _all _of us, right Lieutenant?" Joe joked, a wry smirk on his lips.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

Eighty eights…Grace had had her fill of fucking eighty eights.

"LET'S MOVE!" she called, grabbing her rifle, and pushing men in front of her.

"GO! GO! Hurry up!" Don hollered, pushing Jones in front of him and grabbing Grace's arm last.

Everyone pushing one another down the stairs, and calling to take cover, they reached the bottom floor and men filed under tables.

"Incoming!" Joe yelled.

"Keep low, keep down", Grace instructed.

The building shook and dust rained down on them as Don and Grace skidded to a stop right as the raid ceased.

Why were they running?..._they were indoors_…if they were hit, it wouldn't have mattered.

Looking ironically over to Don, they smirked at one another as the men on the floor began laughing, seeing the satire in the situation.

"That was a real good time", Joe snarked.

"Alright, alright…showers, guys, let's move", Grace said.

Oooooooo

Walking outside, Grace frowned, there were men beginning to gather in the street near a bombed out building.

"Somebody's been hit!" she heard someone call.

She took off running, grabbing at her pack around her shoulders and preparing for the worst; she heard her men running behind her.

Stopping next to a stunned Christianson, Grace saw Roe was already there…and he was plucking dog tags from the man on the ground…Bill Keane…a Toccoa man.

She walked forward and knelt beside Gene, "you ok?" she whispered.

Gene nodded, "casualty…he was gone when I got here".

Hearing a rushed set of footsteps, Grace looked up to see Ron run into the circle. His eyes landed on hers first as he caught his breath, then sighed and clenched his jaw seeing who was lying on the ground.

"Did you know him well?" Jones asked Web.

Web shrugged, "no…not really".

Grace sighed measurably; growing frustrated with the seeming insincerity of her two newest platoon members, and looked at Christianson as Gene gently handed over Keane's dog tags.

Oooooooo

She was on her way over to CP, envious of the men taking showers. Being in the paratroopers and the army, she had seen her fair share of naked and nearly naked men. She had been with_ these_ men for so long, they barely bat an eyelash when stripping off if she happened to be near. Shoving her hands into her pockets and shivering from the cold, she avoided looking at the shower tent with jealousy when she heard Lip call her name.

"Grace!" She turned to him and knew exactly what he was about to tell her as he leaned forward and spoke in her ear, "word from battalion…they want second platoon on this patrol, plus Shifty." She nodded at him, her face downcast. "You alright?" She nodded again as Lip patted her gently on the back, "also…Speirs wants you at CP after you deliver the message".

With that, Lip walked off and Grace walked down the slight slope near the shower tent to gather her men, "second platoon on me!" With the men around her, she began, "alright, I'm leading this patrol and I already knew that…but the C.O. wants the rest of everyone here plus Shifty from third."

"Do they want anyone from first?" Cobb snarked.

"No", Grace answered solemnly, nodding to her men and heading back again to CP.

"Is there anyone they _don't _want from second?" Joe muttered, "Jesus Christ". As Grace walked away, heading directly to CP, Joe turned to Web, Heffron, and Ramirez, "it's always second platoon. I swear to God if there was only three guys, they'd still make us go".

Heffron shook his head, "I can't believe they're making Grace lead it".

Joe nodded, "I know…the poor girl don't even get a shower".

Shoving her cold hands back into her pockets, Grace marched on over to CP. Nearing the building, she looked up and saw Lewis heading her way.

"Hey stranger", he quipped measurably.

"Hey yourself", she replied, slowing to a stop once they met across the road from CP's doors. "You hear the word?"

He nodded, "oh yeah…I know." Looking her up and down discreetly, he continued, "you up to this?"

"You know I am", she countered casually.

Lew nodded, his eyes tight, "you know you've got nothing to prove".

Growing slightly exasperated, Grace nodded back, "yes…I know that."

"Ok…just want to make sure".

"I sat out the last two raids on Novelle and Rechamps; it's my platoon going across the river…I can handle a patrol."

Lew smirked, "just wanted to make sure." He looked her over again, "don't let the West Pointer get under your skin, Gracie…he'll learn about you soon enough".

"He's not the only one under my skin at this moment", she suggested lightly with a slight pang of remorse, irritated that he knew Jones had annoyed her. She understands the concern…but _good Jesus_…how long until they realized she could do her job without supervision?

Smiling fully and raising his eyebrows, he nodded, "I can take a hint. You be safe tonight". He squeezed her shoulder and walked past her, down the road.

Gathering herself, she walked quickly across the street and into CP.

Inside, Lip was standing with Vest and a few other privates, sorting through papers and the like. He smiled at her when she walked in.

She took a breath, about to ask him where Speirs was, "Grace". Looking to an adjacent door in the large room, she met eyes with Ron, "follow me", he requested. Nodding, she followed him down a hallway. Judging by the tattered wall paper and dusty light fixtures on the walls, the beaten up artwork and nick-knacks, Grace knew whoever had lived here were well off before the war started. Ron led her into a good-sized room with high ceilings. Closing the door behind him, Grace walked in and immediately took note of the one full-sized bed near the window and against the wall. There was a fireplace and a chaise lounge, along with a desk; it was all tattered, but nonetheless, it was the best thing she'd seen since walking into Bastogne. "This is your room", Ron announced, then gestured to a second door near the fireplace, "my room is through that door".

"Thank you", she nodded staring at the door, her heart beating quicker at the sight of it, and then turned back to him, "I'm assuming this is all officers' quarters?"

He nodded back, "yes…thankfully, we're able to _all_ have private rooms. I don't know how long we'll be here, how long they'll expect us to hold this side of the line".

"Good to know", she whispered, absently walking over to the bed, noticing the sheets, pillows, and blankets had been changed to Army-issued standards. She hadn't slept in an actual _bed_ since before Bastogne. She looked back to Ron, "I told my men we are going on the patrol tonight…we'll begin preparation after the briefing this afternoon". Taking notice of his posture, she continued, "Lieutenant Jones is being persistent about going this evening".

"He _will _be going…as an observer", Ron clarified quickly.

"Will he be the sixteenth man?"

"No…he'll round out the fifteen…and he'll be there in case you need someone".

"Do I need a chaperone?" The nippy remark flew out of her mouth before she could stop herself…and she immediately regretted it. _What a fool_, she thought, as she lowered her face to the hardwood floors.

"Grace…" His voice was low and hushed.

She interrupted him, bringing her face back up, "I'm sorry…I apologize, that was unnecessary".

Ron took in her remorseful expression, understanding why she had reacted that way. He wished to impart his longing for her safety without making her feel like he doubted her…and he didn't know how to begin. "It's alright. I just want to make sure the patrol goes smoothly".

Initially wondering if he had hesitated in trusting her to lead the patrol because of what happened in Foy; Grace took a moment to respond, feeling very small, "I understand…it'll be good experience for him."

Fearing he offended her, Ron took a step forward…the sudden awkwardness between them had _nothing _to do with Jones…and they both knew that. "Just tell me you can do this tonight".

Her heart in her throat, Grace held his attention, "I can do this tonight", she said fervently. "Ron?" She said after a moment and squinted as he nodded, "say it…just say it".

"Say what?" he wondered aloud, worried. "I know you can lead this patrol…I'm not worried about that".

"Tell me you want me to be safe…I know _that's _what you're really worried about".

"I would rather be taking the men out than you…and yes, I want you to be safe".

Feeling guilty for everything, Grace nodded. While she understood where Ron was coming from – the thought of _him_ out on the front again was enough to turn her stomach – she was tired of defending her ability to lead, her ability to perform in the field.

First Jones, then Lew, and now Ron…she expected it from someone like Jones, but Ron knows her, has seen her in battle. She was being a stubborn jackass for thinking this way and allowing herself to fall into this mind trap. Grace knew damn well that the stress of the impending patrol, her mounting _frustration_ with being unable to touch Ron was getting to her…and the temporary distraction of this stupid argument was too tempting to not act upon.

With tonight's patrol, Grace knew Jones would be off her back once he saw her in action…but what about Ron? She didn't know how much longer the war would carry on…will every future patrol, every future obligation on her part be accompanied by this scene; this doubt she receives from Ron and the guilt her conscious thrusts upon her because of it?

Ron watched her face carefully, knowing full well that she was being obstinate on purpose. He knew she could do the job…he trusts her implicitly, he trusted her with his own life. Ultimately, he despised not being able to do the job _himself_…he didn't like not being in control…and after the acknowledgment they shared of being in love, an inexplicable weight had nudged itself into his heart. It was his job to _protect_ and _love_ her…not send her into a potential firefight with Germans.

"I can't lose you", he confessed, "I will not tolerate a world without you. I tried…I looked for your face everywhere." He walked up to her, sliding his arms around her waist and enjoying the freedom in being able to do so.

"I'm right here", she whispered, knowing he was referring to Foy.

"You scare the shit out of me", he admitted. "Do you know that I still cannot shake the image of you and that damn bazooka in France?" He studied her pensive face, "you make me feel as if I'm not alone…and with the war not being over, I'll be goddamned if the universe rips you away from me now".

Meeting his gaze, she breathed, "since I have met you, _everything_ I have done has been in part because of you. If you were gone…if I had to endure the thought of you not being here, the world and everyone in it would become a stranger." Ron sighed internally; when she said sweet things, they slid right down into his heart. Grace's gaze wandered over Ron's handsome features. "You have nothing to worry about…all will be well. I'll get everybody back on this shore after the job is done", she whispered. The worry line between his eyebrows disappeared and he nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips. She took in his untidy hair, a few pieces swept over his forehead; his face had a nice five o'clock shadow on it, defining his masculine jaw. "I like the scruff", she whispered, gesturing to her own cheek.

"Do you?" he said, smirking.

Grace bit her lip and nodded, a sheepish smile forming; her arms lifting as he embraced her, she brought her hands up and placed her fingers gently on his jaw, "I do…it's a shame the Army makes officers shave". They smiled softly at one another, the tension in their postures melting at their closeness. Leaning towards one another, their lips met in a yielding, reassuring kiss. Molding her body against his, Grace snuck her fingers through his messy hair, enjoying the rub of his scruff against her skin. Feeling her press herself against him, one of Ron's arms slid up her back, holding her tightly to him. He kissed a heated trail down the column of her pale neck, her catching breath egging him on. Returning the favor, Grace gently moved his face slightly to the side as she gently planted kisses along his jaw, nipping once; down the side of his neck, her lips pausing on his pulse, pausing again on his adam's apple as he lightly moaned, and then kissing back up to his slackened lips. "I've always wanted to do that to you", she murmured against his lips before pulling away slightly.

He grinned at her, "I'm honored…you have my permission to do that whenever you'd like".

"I'll make sure to do it again…when Colonel Sink is in the room", she joked as he laughed; his deep laugh vibrating through her body. She brushed the hair lovingly off his forehead and touched her nose to his, "you should go take a shower…they're set up near OP2".

Ron's eyes lit up, "that reminds me". He pulled away and took her hand, "I have something to show you". Turning to the door that led to his room, he walked to it and opened it, walking in and pulling her with him. Grace's eyes darted around. The room resembled hers in size, same full sized-bed with two armchairs in front of a fireplace, a large desk under the window. She spotted a pile of his belongings on the floor next to the bed. _When she slept at night, how was she going to restrain herself from wanting to be in _his _bed_? He stopped them at a door across his room. "It's completely useable", he said turning the handle and unveiling a large bathroom…complete with freestanding sink, toilette…and a large shower, with the floral patterned curtain pushed to the side.

Grace's eyes widened along with Ron's grin, "are you kidding?" she whispered.

Ron shook his head, "nope…it's all yours, love. There's a fresh uniform for you in there as well. I'll take one after you".

She looked to his satisfied expression tenderly, "I love you".

He sighed and smiled, "I love you too".

Getting bold, she brought their entwined hands up and kissed the back of his palm while keeping her eyes on his, "perhaps sometime…we could save the water", she held his gaze as his eyes darkened, "…and take one together". Feeling giddy at saying that, she could not believe her audacity.

Ron's heart pounded in his chest, having just thought the same thing. He smirked as she bit her lip and laughed, "you took the words right out of my head", he husked to her. She leaned in and kissed him quickly, one hand reaching up and curling her fingers into his hair; holding him against her, he felt her tongue dart out softly, teasing him as she let him go and walked into the bathroom. "You tease", he joked as she smiled and softly shut the door. Teasing him further, Ron took notice that he didn't hear the lock 'click' into place.

Turning away from the door once he heard the shower turn on, Ron walked back and flopped gracefully onto his bed. After a minute, his eyes skipped back to the closed door. _How was he going to control himself with _her _in such close proximity?_ The smell of her hair, the taste of her lips, the feeling of her skin had gotten inside of him, into the air, all around him; she had become a physical necessity to him.

Carefully setting her old clothes on the floor and away from the new ones, Grace gingerly stepped into the steamy shower.

She sighed contentedly, her skin breaking out in goose bumps as she slid the curtain shut and stepped fully under the warm stream. Beside the soap was a razor and she nearly cried at the sight. She hadn't showered in forever…she looked down at the sullied water, thinking abstractly of how all the grime washing off her skin was the last physical reminder of the men they had lost…that this very silt and soil was accumulated in their lost ones' presence.

She felt something catch in her throat, a sudden surge of sadness that caught her unaware, almost taking her breath away. That was the thing…you never got used to it, the idea of someone being _gone_. Just when you think it was reconciled, accepted, something pointed it out to you and it hit you all over again. She wondered what part of the darkened water was the evidence of her time inside Foy. Squeezing her eyes shut as she rinsed the soap from her hair and her skin, she hoped any nightmares that may come to her wouldn't prompt her to cry out in her sleep.

Relaxing her shoulders and she turned off the water, Grace tried her best to dispel the cloud of melancholy in her heart. Pulling the shower curtain back, her heart fell through her chest realizing there was no familiar army issued towel on the counter.

"Ron?" Pulled from his thoughts, Ron heard Grace call his name through the closed door.

He got up quickly and walked to the door, his hand on the knob, "you ok?"

He heard a guarded amusement in her voice as she spoke again, "there's no towel in here. If there aren't any, that's ok."

Ron looked to his bed…the towel was perched on the end of it, "I have one for you…forgot to put it in there". He walked over and grabbed it and resumed his place by the door, "I've got it…should I…"

"You can come in…I'm still in here", she answered. Gently opening the door, Ron let himself in, kept his eyes down, and set the towel on the counter near the curtain. "Thank you", her voice came from directly above him. Startled, he looked up to her; she held the curtain in front of her, her face peeking from behind it. Her hair and lashes darkened, water clinging to her face, neck and shoulders. "Come here?" she breathed, she couldn't help herself. Being this close to his body, the only thing keeping him from her was a thin sheet of plastic; Grace felt her heart thud erotically. He walked forward, eyes darkened and pressed his lips against hers, groaning at the wet warmth of her skin. Bringing a tentative hand up, he stroked her cheek and cupped her face. As his fingers caressed down her neck and onto her naked shoulder, she shivered into his touch, her breath shaking.

Calming his own breath, he sighed into her mouth, "I should let you get dressed".

"Yeah…you should", she smiled against his lips. "Will I see you at the briefing?"

He shook his head, "no…Winters wants to do it himself. Company CP." She nodded as he pulled away and took in her flushed skin and pink lips, "you're a good leader…the patrol is going to be fine".

"Thank you".

"I love you", he responded ardently.

"I love you too".

**Today is January 10****th****…today is the day that Skip Muck and Alex Penkala passed away in the Ardennes forest in Belgium. Along with the two of those brave men, I want to thank all of those who lost their lives in the Battle of the Bulge and the subsequent raids on Foy, Novelle, and Rechamps in the winter of 1944-45. Not a winter goes by where I am not thankful for my warm home and family by my side.**

**I hope EVERYONE had a lovely holiday and a happy new year.**

**More IS coming soon.**

**Review and let me know what you think.**


	38. Chapter 38

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

_LAST TIME:_

_Grace felt her heart thud erotically. He walked forward, eyes darkened and pressed his lips against hers, groaning at the wet warmth of her skin. Bringing a tentative hand up, he stroked her cheek and cupped her face. As his fingers caressed down her neck and onto her naked shoulder, she shivered into his touch, her breath shaking._

_ Calming his own breath, he sighed into her mouth, "I should let you get dressed"._

_ "Yeah…you should", she smiled against his lips. "Will I see you at the briefing?"_

_ He shook his head, "no…Winters wants to do it himself. Company CP." She nodded as he pulled away and took in her flushed skin and pink lips, "you're a good leader…the patrol is going to be fine"._

_ "Thank you"._

_ "I love you", he responded ardently._

_ "I love you too"._

With her heart hammering in her ears, Grace smirked as Ron clenched his jaw, his eyes traveling back down to her naked shoulders, and took a deep breath and walked swiftly out of the steamed bathroom.

Grace smiled at his retreating backside, silently commending him for his inner strength _to_ walk away…if the roles had been reversed, she did not know if she possessed that kind of restraint.

After toweling herself off and slipping into her clean uniform, Grace turned to her reflection in the small mirror above the sink.

She recognized herself apart from her slight weight loss due to the dire circumstances of Bastogne. Her dark hazel eyes appeared larger on her pale face; her dark, damp hair was wild from running the towel through it. Twisting her hair into a bun and ignoring the dried curls that fell slightly into her face, she paused, entranced by the normalcy and familiarity of the movement.

_Life goes on_.

A month ago, they were all in Bastogne…a couple weeks ago, she was in a bombed out barn in Foy.

A year ago, they were in Aldbourne.

The German forces were in fact losing the war at this point in time…and with that news flying across the globe, people back home were getting back into the swing of things…vacations, parties, weddings, babies, new jobs…life.

Grace secured her loose bun and her arms dropped to her sides, her eyes remaining on her matured reflection. If they got home…when they got home…would they all move on too? Would they heal…or would they still be losing sleep? Could they bury the past, their current present, and live? Was she too deep in this, too late for recovery…her adult life was entrenched in war, did she know how to live without it?

Walking out into Ron's room and noting its vacancy, Grace went to hers, gathered her helmet and rifle, and walked down the hallway and out into the main room.

"Grace".

She turned to the voice, "Lip, you know there's showers back there? Let me find Luz, send you a fresh change of clothes while you shower and lay down, huh?"

Lip smiled, "I'll be happy to do that…but when you find George, tell him we've got movement on the Kraut's side…he needs to lay a few bazooka rounds into the house across the river".

"I'm on it", she replied making her way to the opened front door, "there's an open room to the left right inside the hallway". She turned and winked back at him, "it's all yours, Lieutenant".

Crossing the street to the large building they were keeping supplies in, Grace strode in and smirked hearing the all too familiar sounds of the boys bartering for fresh goods.

"God damnit Johnny, you're breakin' my heart", George drawled.

"Come on George", Johnny started, "just give me ten…ten, fifteen bars".

"I'll give you Juicy Fruit, you happy?" George counter-offered.

Grace smirked as she followed Vest into the room, "Lieutenant", Cobb acknowledged her, standing beside Martin.

"What do ya say, what do ya hear?" she said, nostalgically thinking of Bill and employing his usual greeting. Her eyes skipped down to the piles of Hershey bars in front of Luz, "ah…so _this _is why George Luz is suddenly so popular".

"There wouldn't be any other reason, Gracie, let's get serious here", Johnny joked back at Luz's amused face.

Grace turned to George, "can you get someone to send a fresh uniform to Lip over at CP?" He nodded, "wonderful, thank you. Also, there's a report of movement on the Krauts side…Lip wants you to lay a few bazooka rounds into a house across the river".

"You know your way around a bazooka, Lieutenant…you're better suited at it than Luz", Cobb snarked, referencing her infamous run in France with the weapon.

Grace chuckled, "consider it retirement, Cobb".

Johnny tried his luck again, "just a few bars, Luz come on".

Grace heard footsteps approaching as Cobb joined in, "George, for a friend…you're first platoon at heart!" She smirked at their persistence.

"There's not enough to go around!" George insisted as Joe swept in, Webster and Jones in tow.

"Whoa Hershey bars!" Joe celebrated in a loud voice.

"Jesus Christ", George seethed.

"Who they for, come on George", Joe contested, winking at Grace.

"Not for you", Luz shook his head.

"Captain Speirs here, Lieutenant Grant?" Jones asked in her direction.

She shook her head, "not here, no…I'd try down by the river". Jones nodded and took in the boisterous activity around him.

"Hey big mouth", a voice called from the doorway; "give the kid a Hershey bar, huh?" Grace smiled, turning to Frank Perconte.

"You've got to be shittin' me!" George called as Frank walked up to the group, a smile on his face.

"Jesus, look who it is", Joe laughed.

"Hey guys", he greeted, leaning in to peck Grace on the cheek, "hey Gracie". He took in the large room, "I like what you've done with the place, Angel".

"Yeah, yeah, we did good, huh?" she laughed incredulously, glad he was back but hoping he was well enough to be back. "How are you feeling…are you ok to be here?"

"As long as everybody keeps their hands off my ass, I'll be alright", he nodded.

"I can't promise that one, Perco", she joked to him as Joe, Johnny, and Vest laughed.

"Here, have a Hershey's", George tossed him one over their heads.

"Hey, he gets a fuckin' Hershey bar?" Joe asked, disgusted.

George shrugged, "well he got shot in the ass".

"So it's your fault you stuck your big ass out in the wind?" Johnny asked Frank.

Frank's shoulders went up, "no, but I expect a little sympathy from ya, right?"

Johnny leaned over, "you want me to rub it for ya, huh?"

Grace smiled and shook her head at the noise and the boys' antics, knowing it had been forever since they were able to freely give each other hell without the threat of a Kraut barrage. It was a welcome kind of chaos…she realized then how much she had missed the raised voices, the ribbing, the yelling, the animated frolics of her men. She looked up and caught Jones and Webster's over-stimulated expressions.

"I was gonna give you a handful of Hershey's because I figured you weren't gonna get a shower", George said in her ear from beside her, "but somehow you obviously have had one…" he trailed off suggestively.

"If I had taken a shower with all the men, I'm sure you would have heard about it by now", she affirmed to him quietly, laughing to herself at the imposturous image.

"Heard about it?...honey, I would have run down there to see it…and then join in".

She bit back a laugh, "Jesus…real appropriate, Georgie".

"So…what gives?"

"There's a shower in my room…well attached to Speirs' room", she easily informed, instantly regretting it as George's eyes crinkled at the edges.

"Oh I see…you and Sparky…"

"No…_Unfortunately _not…" she shook her head at his assumption, amused at his interest.

"Well get on that, Sparkette…I'm living vicariously through him".

"Sparkette?" Grace asked, her eyebrow and voice raised.

"Oh shit", Joe laughed, "cat's out of the bag…good one, Luz".

Frank laughed animatedly, "Oh, that's right!"

"I was hoping to spring that on her at a better time, George", Johnny smirked.

"Lieutenant Grant", Grace turned to one of the battalion runners, "roster here for you".

"Thank you", she replied, looking it over as Johnny and Frank came closer to the group.

"Well I heard the Krauts are finished", Frank said as Grace looked over the list.

"Well just to make sure, we gatta row across the fuckin' river tonight", Joe solemnly said, "grab a few, and ask 'em in person", he finished, looking over at Grace.

Frank looked at Grace, "is he kiddin' me?"

She shook her head, "I wish he was…welcome back Frank".

"Oh Jesus, that reminds me Web", George started, grabbing a box, "I need you run this over to OP2…grenade launchers to the night patrol…any day now, Web".

George began counting off boxes, throwing them into the box Web was holding, and Grace looked back down to her roster. There were _sixteen_ names on it…two translators; Joe and Web. Vest spoke up, "hey, did you hear about what happened on Dog Company's patrol? Replacement Lieutenant blew his foot off…stepped on a shoe mine. Fresh in from West Point", annoyed at Vest's candidness, Grace glanced over worriedly at Jones who was looking back at her, his face paling. "He had to go home empty-handed", Vest finished.

"No shit", George commented, "maybe he was a friend of yours, Lieutenant", he called over to Jones. Grace bit her tongue. These men who had been with her since D-Day were so accustomed to loss of life that they didn't bat an eye when something happened. If you wanted to survive, you waited to grieve on your own time…Grace knew this all too well, but still felt a pang of sadness and sorrow for the young Lieutenant who was trying so hard to prove himself.

Cobb spoke up, his eyes past Grace, settled on Vest's supply box, "hey Vest, what you got in there…more Hershey bars and Lucky Strikes for your rear echelon fucks to hoard, huh?"

"Hey, hey, hey", George started, followed by the rest of the men's distaste for Cobb's lack of empathy or timing,

Grace looked him right in the eye, "Cobb, with the mouth, please…the kid's just trying to do his job, alright?"

Cobb shut his mouth, but not before George's limit had been breached, "Jesus Christ…you know what, the hell with it", he threw a handful of bars down onto the table as Grace turned to him, putting a hand on his chest.

"You gatta go blow that house up", she reminded him before he stormed off; he smirked slightly at her.

"That's right, Sparkette", he winked at her, then asked Johnny to keep an eye out on the stuff.

"Alright, I'm going to the bank of the river", she announced, forgoing the Hershey bars and grabbing pack of Lucky's, stealthily slipping them into her jacket pocket.

Ooooooooo

"Grace…just who I was about to send for", Winters beckoned, Ron by his side.

"Afternoon", she stopped beside Ron, Winters looking out over the river in front of them.

"Intelligence give you any information on the CP?" Winters inquired.

"Third house on the left", Ron answered, lowering his binoculars. Grace recognized them as the pair she stole for him while she was at the hospital. She looked over the river to the house they would invade that night.

"Soon as our men are back in the boats, I want battalion on the banks opening fire".

"Captain Winters?"

The three of them turned to see Private Vest approaching. "Yes, Private?"

"Request permission to accompany the patrol, sir…I heard Lieutenant Jones is going as an observer and I'd like to get some action in if the Krauts really are finished for good", Vest reasoned to them

"Of course, request permitted…there's a briefing…CP in five minutes", Winters nodded, turning around again. Grace nodded at Vest's smile and winked.

"Yes sir, thank you sir", Vest nodded and stalked off.

"You've got your men in mind, Grace?" Winters asked, his eyes fixed across the river again.

She nodded to his back, "I do".

"Good. Let's go brief the men". He turned in the direction of CP and Grace followed. Ron grabbed her hand and squeezed; Grace turned to him and smiled, reaching into her pocket and pressing the new pack of Lucky's into his palm before turning around after Dick.

"Ten Hut! Jones called out as Dick and Grace walked into the room.

"At ease", Dick breathed, the men immediately collapsing back into their seats, their feet propping themselves up on the table. "Gentlemen", he greeted. "As you can see, we've assembled fifteen of you here for this prisoners snatch tonight at zero one hundred…just a couple of points", he nodded as he looked around the room, "secured four rubber boats will get you across the river, First Lieutenant Grant is the ranking officer and platoon leader and will be leading this patrol…Second Lieutenant Jones will also be going along as an observer." Grace turned to look at Jones who smiled arrogantly towards the corner of the room, Grace turned to see who he was making eyes with…and locked eyes with Webster. Grace understood the desire to see action, to do something of action while deployed and at war…but God damnit, every patrol had the potential for death and she was sick of new meat treating it like a game. Dick continued, "the whole battalion will be covering your withdrawal." He produced two whistles, "we hear these whistles, we open up…so don't blow them 'til you're back in the boats with your prisoners", he handed the two whistles to Grace.

"And if the house turns out to be empty, sir?" Grace asked.

"We don't think it will, but in any case, it's a out-post and we want it destroyed, so you'll have to lay some ammo on a time-delay. We have to move fast, but carefully. Put a perimeter around the house, once that's in place, get your rifle grenades in the first four windows, get your assault team in quick…", he turned to Grace who nodded knowingly at him, "ok, good". He turned back to the men, "you're in good hands. Remember it's about prisoners…don't pop the first thing that moves. We clear?"

"Yes sir", the room chorused.

"Good", he answered. "Grace, you picked your assault team?"

All eyes landed on her as she nodded, "McClung, Sisk, Cobb, Garcia, and Webster, as translator". Webster could use some dirt on his BDU's and with Joe technically being a second translator, Grace hoped this move would allow Joe to sit out this patrol. "The rest of the men will lay a base of fire with Sergeant Martin", she tossed Johnny the second whistle. Looking up, Grace hoped Joe knew what her angle was, "you speak German, right Webster?" she asked honestly. Her gaze traveled down to Joe pointedly who smirked thankfully and nodded once at her.

"Yes, a bit", Webster admitted.

"Good", she nodded, "that's my team, sir".

"Questions?" Dick asked the room.

"No, sir", they all answered.

He nodded, "good. Good luck", he said to their thanks, walked back toward the door while putting his hand on Grace's shoulder, squeezing.

"Ten Hut!" Jones announced again.

"As you were, carry on", Dick waved the order off and steering Grace to exit in front of him.

Outside, Dick and Grace stopped in the road to talk with Speirs and Lew, with Jones joining them.

"Four rubber boats, sir?" Grace prompted.

"There is a rope attached to a tree on their side of the bank. All boats will pull themselves along that rope to reach the other side." he explained.

"Understood".

"Of course we have a full moon tonight", Lew stated.

"That's right", Ron said, looking at Grace, "so no helmets".

"Nothing rattles, nothing shines", she nodded, looking up to see Webster approaching their pow-wow. _So predictable_.

"You should approach up on the left…" Ron began when he was interrupted.

"Excuse me, sir?" Web started, looking at Dick.

"Yes?"

"Liebgott and I, we _both_ speak German", he clarified.

Dick shrugged, "yeah?"

"You said fifteen men…there are sixteen of us, including two translators".

Ron interjected, his patience being tested, "ok fine…hey Liebgott", he said to Joe who made sure he was walking by, "you want to sit this one out?"

"Yes sir", Joe replied, winking at Grace and giving a thumbs up to Web, "thanks, buddy". Grace turned back to their circle without caring to see Webster's reaction.

Oooooooo

Grace walked into Out-Post 1, located near their side of the bank; the men were to meet and remain in there to prepare for the patrol.

She spotted all of second platoon and some of first; men milling about and playing cards, Don was making dinner. Her heart warmed at the sight. They had a few hours before they were to go out and the men going needed quiet distraction from nerves and the silent support of their comrades. "Ok, all you men going on patrol, nothing rattles, nothing shines, no helmets". Her men nodded solemnly at her.

She took her helmet off and sat down opposite Jones, slinging her weapon around her shoulder and grabbing her knife to dull the few shiny surfaces. He met her eye line and nodded, he was in the middle of putting together his own weapon.

Grace knew he felt the butterflies; the simultaneous hot and cool butterflies that danced around your stomach before your first real patrol…anticipating the first _real_ round flying overhead. Her first patrol had been exhilarating. She had never felt so in control, so dangerous, so powerful…so different from the girl she'd left behind in the states.

This young Lieutenant had had his eye on this type of action for a while now…after all, he had spent four years studying war at West Point.

One fact that Grace knew, however, was that no matter the background, no matter the training, every man had a reaction to battle, to patrols, to bullets aimed at your head…and one's reaction could make or break a patrol.

"Lieutenant Grant, Jones?"

Grace and Jones looked over to see Don holding up a pot of stew he had cooked. Grace had learned to love Malarkey's cooking and could have gone for a small cup, but she sensed Jones' hesitation and knew all too well what a nervous stomach felt like. She smiled at Don and looked over to Jones for confirmation who looked pale.

Grace smiled softly, sending silent understanding at Jones, and then looked back to Don, "no thanks, Malark".

Don nodded, filled up Webster's cup and set his pot down, grabbing his coffee cup. The corner of Jones' mouth crept up as he nodded at Grace and focused his attention back on his rifle.

Sensing Don beside her, she looked up meeting his pensive face.

"You set for tonight?" he asked, his voice hushed and directed at her.

She nodded, "we're set. Providing the rigging on the rubber boats holds up, we should be in and out of there…but you know how these things work".

"Don't I know it", he searched her face seriously as he paused. She stopped the work on her rifle and looked back up at him, "the C.O. ok with sending you out there?" he whispered cautiously.

Measuring his worried features with patience, Grace whispered back, "I'm second's leader, Don...there's no one else to lead this, you know that." At his remorseful expression, she continued, lowering her voice further, "he doesn't like this, believe me. But just because we…doesn't mean our roles change." She smirked, "plus, you know me."

He smirked back, "stubborn as the day is long". He gestured slightly to Jones, "is he…"

Grace smiled, "he's alright".

Don nudged her shoulder affectionately, "just be careful out there". He turned his attention to Jones, "you ready for tonight?"

Jones' large eyes skipped up to Don and nodded, "I'm ready".

"Those Krauts are gonna catch some hell", Don casually said, tossing back his coffee.

"So I hear", Jones responded, then looked to Grace and shrugged, "I'm not personally going in". She could easily detect the morose tone in his voice.

Don nodded, looking at Grace, "yeah I know".

Jones nodded with him, his wide eyes gauging Grace's tolerance. She remained quiet, her expression void of any emotion apart from stoic understanding. "Lieutenant Grant and Sergeant Martin…I'm to remain in the back and provide covering fire".

"That's the best place to be", Don reassuringly said. He gestured to Grace, "Grant's been around the block…you'll be fine".

Jones nodded as Don meandered away slowly. Grace watched him and caught eyes with Webster who was looking upon the scene with quiet judgment. Slowly shaking his head, he stood up and slung his rifle as the building shook with the nearby impact of a Kraut eighty-eight.

Grace took a measured breath through her nose. She understood Webster's frustration with the battalion's codling of Jones…if the kid wanted experience, well hell – let him have it! But they were still in a war…that was the cold reality. There was no surrender, there were no negotiations…the Krauts were still sending eighty-eights over the river for fuck's sake. Bottom line was – this patrol could potentially be fatal, and as such, only the most capable would lead and be in it.

Grace spent the rest of the evening making sure the men had lighters to dull the metal on their weapons, black out tape to cover their buckles and belts, and enough coffee, playing cards, and Lucky's to keep them awake, alert, and happy.

She looked out across the still river from the balcony, a cigarette balanced on her lips. She couldn't help but feel the weight on her shoulders that had accumulated all damn day…fifteen men sent across the river to capture a few Krauts from a German out post. Getting back safely could be accomplished in as little as ten minutes; the same mission could be met with disaster and result in nothing more than fifteen Americans killed or wounded in action. Grace knew the men who had seen combat before put that fact out of their minds…those who hadn't, like Jones, probably thought of little else.

Oooooooo

The night was so hushed, so still. The moon hung high in the inky expanse above their heads, smoothing everything it touched with a romantic glow. Inwardly, Grace knew nights such as this were _not _meant for patrols.

Across the river, the German searchlights were aimed up at the sky, winding about and warding off any allied plane overhead. The light snow flurries that they had experienced for the last days had ceased, making the air crisp and clear…every shadow jutted out at a harsh angle.

Placing the whistle around her neck, Grace turned around and made note of the position of the entire battalion on the bank, silently waiting for their signal to open fire. She couldn't see Ron, but she knew he was up there somewhere, watching.

Gathering the men near their boats, Grace leaned into the first one easing it into the water. "Any problems?" she hushed.

Martin shook his head, "no problems, we are good to go…rope is secured".

"Good…let's go", she responded, wading into the freezing water with the first boat and swiftly climbing in. The rest of the men followed, boats two, three, and four lining up along the bank behind boat one…all men climbing in and grabbing hold of the rope they were all connected to. Looking behind her and making sure Jones made it in last, Grace began to pull them along the rope. Quietly moving down the rope, Grace perched herself near the side, making sure everyone was keeping up, "keep it steady", she whispered to McClung in front of her.

"Oh shit!" she heard someone exclaim.

"I can't swim!" someone else shouted.

Turning around, their crawl stalling, she saw the last boat flip, dumping the three men in to the cold water. Grimacing at the noise, Grace watched to make sure they all climbed back up on their bank. Jones motioned for them to keep going from the third boat, Grace nodded and they kept going.

"Ok, let's keep it moving guys, come on", she urged on.

From his position, Ron stood motionless beside Nixon. His eyes were tight on the propped up figure in the first boat. He knew that was Grace…he could tell by her hair. Silently cursing the men who fell out of their boat, he kept his gaze trained on the remaining three as they made it to the axis side of the river.

Reaching the snowy bank, Grace crouched down, making sure everyone got out and all the boats were pulled out of the water. Leading the advance with McClung, the two of them crawled on their stomachs to a fence of barbed wire.

"Cutters", she whispered, grabbing the fence. McClung grabbed it as well, cutting them quickly. "Good…side", she ordered, moving to the side and holding the fence away, letting the men crawl through.

The men crawled under by twos, then ran forward and ducked behind their respective posts. Grace and McClung were last, after getting under she ran to Jones who held the furthest position and knelt by him.

"Powers, go!" she sent Shifty forward to set up shop, "McClung, go". Her eyes moved right to left, left to right – studying the layout and making sure her men were met without resistance. Standing up, she gestured, "come on, forward". She ran up and pressed her back up against a large pile of firewood, ordering to the rest of the men, "in twos…come on", she sent them separately in couples each time, waiting to make sure everyone was safe. Once they were all in place behind cover, she ran forward to join them. "Powers, Wynn, secure the left flank…Jones, take Martin and Heffron, go secure the cross roads…clear?" The men nodded to her, their breath whisking up into the cool air. She nodded, "security out". The two groups took off at her word. She nodded to McClung once security ran off, "let's go".

Running forward to the targeted building, Grace was followed by McClung, Jackson, Ramirez, Vest, and Webster. Pressing her back up against the wall once reaching the corner near the stairs, Grace fixed the small blaster at the end of her rifle. Breathing evenly and feeling the icy sparks of adrenaline fly through her body, she nodded once at Shifty across the small road from her. Cocking her rifle loudly, Grace fluidly stepped forward, turned around, and shot out the window…breaking the glass and shattering the silence.

POP!

From the balcony on the other side of the bank, Ron's heart skipped a beat hearing the loud crack in the silence. That was Grace.

BASH! The small explosive that was in Grace's round exploded in the room above the stairs and Grace and her men prepared to run up and enter. Jackson ran forward and threw in the last of the barrage, a hand grenade. Before the blast went off, however, Jackson ran up the stairs and threw open the door.

Grace lunged forward, trying to grab his collar, "Jackson, NO!"

BOOM!

The remaining two windows shattered as Grace saw Jackson absorb the main blast and fall to the ground.

Running up the stairs, Webster pushed in first, shouting orders in German. Grace entered in the smoky room behind him, kicking the discarded rifles and weapons to the door and away from the three Krauts inside. "Put it down!" she shouted over Jackson's screams to a German who held a handgun at Webster. "Keep your hands out where I can see them!" Webster was shouting out a translation after every word she spoke. "Tell them to keep quiet!" she hissed at Web, seeing the rest of her squad corner the Germans. She turned immediately to Jackson, still on the ground, "Jackson?" she pulled him up by one shoulder and the breath left her lungs…the left half of his face was littered in shrapnel from his own grenade. He would go into shock if they didn't get the fuck out of there soon, "stay with us, Jackson, we're gonna get you back over on our side. Vest! Watch Jackson, keep him awake…Ramirez, watch Vest", she ordered swiftly, her eyes settling on controlling the chaos in the small room.

"Holy shit", Vest wheezed, kneeling beside Jackson.

"Let's go, Web, let's go!" Grace called out, ushering the Germans away from an opened closet. "Keep those men quiet…McClung, cover Web!" Grace slung the bag of explosives from her shoulder, passing them to Web, "take the charges, prime it and set it". She turned with McClung to the two standing prisoners and one wounded one. Gesturing to the wounded Kraut, Grace pointed her rifle at them and motioned to the door, "pick him up, let's go!" She called to Webster, "Web, tell them to carry the wounded man and to the shut up". From behind her, Web called out the translation while setting the charges up. Grace's eyes fell on Vest who was barely holding it together, "Ramirez, hold up Jackson, we're moving out!" Ramirez, Jackson, and Vest were at the door with McClung covering them; Grace held the three Krauts at gunpoint, standing between them and Webster. She barely registered the Germans' shocked faces at the woman before them calling orders as she called out, "we move out on my command…are you ready?" Checking Web's progress, Grace pointed at the door, "we all move out together…let's go…let's move, go now!" Making sure the men made it out the door, Grace waited for Web and pushed him through the door and down the stairs, grimacing as she heard the suppressing fire from the Krauts. "PULL BACK…we're moving out!" she yelled out.

"Let's go!" she heard Martin call out.

"McClung, keep the prisoner's heads down!" Grace ordered. Turning to the left, she called for Popeye, "Wynn! Come on, we're pulling out, let's go!"

"Covering fire!" Martin hollered out, their group opening fire.

Running past, Grace spotted Babe still crouched and firing. She was going to be the last man on this side of the bank and get her men back safely if it was the last thing she did, "Heffron, we're falling back, let's go!" Leaning down, she pushed him ahead of her and ran.

Ron held his breath as he watched the Krauts cover the group in white flashes of fire. Grace was making sure everyone was getting back to their side, and he could see her holding up the rear.

Grace needed to make sure Jackson got on the first boat to go back and that the two unwounded prisoners were accounted for. There was no way to do that _and_ stay up front to blow the whistle for cover. As she ran by Jones, she pulled the whistle over her head, "Jones! Take the whistle and blow when you get to the bank! Run, go…now!"

"You got it!" he yelled back, running to the boats.

Grace called out to all her men running by, "stay low! Keep your heads low! Let's go!"

"God damnit…blow the God damned whistle", Lew seethed beside Ron, his jaw clenched.

Grace heard the shrill sound of the whistle in front of her just as they began targeting them with mortars.

Immediately, the other side of the bank opened fire.

"We need to get back to CP", Nixon called.

Nodding reluctantly, Ron tore his eyes away from the scene and followed, his heart pounding in his chest.

Ron did not know how to do this – how to _walk away_ from this moment. Every cell in his body was _screaming _at him to run out there, grab Grace and defend and protect her; make sure she was safe and unharmed. Swallowing the urge to vomit, Ron could barely hear the firing or the mortars…all he was focusing on was the shouting from outside, praying he would not hear her scream for a medic.

Hatred. He had once felt supreme hatred for Dike and anyone else that put Grace in harm's way…now that hate was directed fully on himself. Clenching his hands into fists as he followed robotically behind Nixon, Ron held his breath and forced himself not to yell in frustration and agony.

Dodging flying dirt, rocks, and debris, Grace made it to the boats, "let's get in and go, let's go!" She jumped down onto the soft dirt and ran into the water, grabbing a boat and turning to Ramirez, "let's get Jackson in here, keep moving guys…come on!" Setting Jackson down into the first boat, Ramirez and Vest climbed in after followed by McClung. "Go now!" They began pulling themselves across and Grace waded over to the second boat.

The cold river seeping up to her thighs, Grace quickly surveyed the chaos on the shore.

"Let's move, let's move!" Martin called over the rounds, trying to get the wounded prisoner into the second boat. Wynn, Shifty and Heffron were in the boat attempting keeping the other two Germans in line. They were all screaming and yelling.

Grace turned to the third boat to see the rest of the men fitting into it and she yelled towards Johnny, "Martin, leave him…leave that one here…we don't have time!" Martin nodded and pushed the wounded German to the shore and climbed in the second boat, "go, go!" Grace lunged into the third boat as Web and Jones pulled them along. Swinging her rifle in front of her, Grace held up the rear and covered fire, popping round after round onto the Kraut side of the river.

"Keeping pulling, keeping pulling!" she heard Jones yell out. Grunting with every spent shell, Grace grimaced as water began to rain down on them from mortars colliding with the river.

"Keep going, come on!" she screamed, ducking at the bright flashes of bullets whizzing by.

The first boat reached the shore; Malarkey, Perconte, and a handful of others were there to help the men off and into safety.

"Grab Jackson!" McClung called out.

Feeling the boat nudge the bottom the shore, Grace jumped out into the water and ran to the bank, "let's go, let's go! Keep your heads down!" She remained on the bank, yelling for the men to run to cover. Once the bank was mostly cleared, Grace ran to the nearest building with the rest of her men.

"Clear the tables, Jackson's wounded!" Martin yelled.

"Popeye, take the prisoners right there and shake 'em down", Grace ordered, pointing to the small cove in the room. "Move, move", she stood in the doorway and pushed her men inside, "McClung, get to CP and tell them what we've got". Striding forward to Jackson who was on the nearby table, she saw Vest screaming and sobbing over him, Grace pushed him away, "get off of him", she ordered. "Shifty…watch Vest!" Her eyes found Johnny near the door, "Martin, go and grab a medic!" One nod and Johnny was out the door.

"Lieutenant?"

Grace turned towards Jones' voice and narrowed her eyes at the chaotic scene, "Jones, can you grab a hold of Jackson's legs and keep him still?" He nodded and she went straight to Jackson's side, nudging Cobb and Skinny out of the way.

"Can you help him, Grace?" Web asked, his voice raw and on the edge.

Grace produced her sulfa powder from her jacket and gently sprinkled it over Jackson's mangled features. "Jackson, keep breathing, keep your eyes on me…stay calm, I've got ya".

The noise level in the small room was still high, exacerbated by the MG fire and mortars still coming from outside. The yells of the men and the two Germans were mixing together and Grace felt her patience crack slowly trying to wait for the medic to get there.

"He's gonna die! He's gonna fucking die!" Vest sobbed from nearby.

"It's gonna be alright, Jackson", Web soothed across from Grace.

"We're right here, Jackson, it's ok", Grace cooed, leaning over him, trying to hear if his airway was obstructed.

"God damnit!" Vest suddenly screamed.

"Hey!" Jones immediately ran forward and pulled Vest away, stopping his hysteria.

"Where the fuck is the medic?!" Web yelled, looking toward the door.

"Alright, enough is enough…I need silence for Jackson!" Grace bellowed out over the men. The room hushed save for whimpers here and there. "I can't wait for the medics anymore", she leaned over Jackson once more, the men looking on. "Keep breathing for me, Jackson, that's it. Light…I need some light", she requested. Skinny lit his lighter and held it to Jackson's face, "good…Jackson, look at the flame, I need you to look at the flame, that's good", she said, nodding. The near silence in the room punctured painfully by Jackson's catching breath and cry.

"What do we got, Grace?" Martin called out, Roe behind him.

"Let's move him out of here", she murmured over her shoulder to Gene's nodding face.

Gene and the ambulance driver shuffled up with the stretcher and Grace and Babe pulled Jackson onto it.

Suddenly Jackson sucked in a strangled breath and began keening, "NO, I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!"

"Move, come on, let's get him outta here!" Gene called, carrying him out.

BOOM! A mortar hit nearby, sending dust raining down over the room.

"Set him down, set him down", Gene requested and they laid him on the ground.

Grace knelt with Gene, her hand on Jackson's neck keeping the blood flow pressured, "it's ok, it's ok", she called out over Jackson's growing cries. Abruptly, Jackson arched his back, suddenly choking and going into shock. "Jackson! Stay with me!"

Jackson cried out, choking "I don't wanna die!"

Grace kept her hand on his neck and one hand on his face, trying to keep him from bleeding out, "you're not gonna die! Calm down, Jackson, breathe!" BOOM! Another mortar rocked the building and he choked again, blood spurting up from his mouth. "Jackson?!" Grace cried, holding his face as he spasmed up, his terrified eyes on her. With one final jerk, his eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp.

Her breath caught in her throat, Grace knelt back, her eyes seeking Johnny's. Fixing him with a serious and sad stare, he sighed heavily and walked forward, pulling the wool blanket off Skinny's shoulders; keeping his eyes on Grace until he reached the stretcher, he looked down and gently draped it over Jackson's body.

Eugene Jackson was twenty years old; he had lied about his age when he joined the army at sixteen.

Oooooooo

A couple hours later, Gene and the medics had taken Jackson away; Grace had made sure her men were stable, warm, and intact, and the prisoners were secured, their papers complete and ready for transport.

It was still very dark outside, the fire from the other side of the river had ceased and Grace was visited by a battalion runner, who told her to bring the prisoners to CP.

Accompanied by Jackson and Webster, who was in charge of the prisoners, Grace made her way to CP.

Her eyes felt raw and sore, her head was throbbing and her shoulders and throat were tight. The most painful however, was the bottomless sorrow that welled up within her, Jackson's screams and cries circling her mind. Jackson's death had hit everyone hard – he was so young in comparison to all of them; just when they all thought they could live through this hell…his death had reopened a wound deep inside her and she had began to ache again.

That's when the internal questions started. _If she had grabbed him – if she had verbally ordered his grenade instead of letting him take her queue – if she had taken medic supplies with her_. If ,if, if. She could see it in all her men's faces – they were thinking what they could have done to prevent it too…but _she _was the leader…this was her fault.

In the back of her mind, Grace wondered exactly how many men she had held as they died.

With CP in sight from the dim lights, she made out a truck in front, Dick and Ron standing outside.

Grace walked them up and stood aside while Web gave orders in German and a few MP's loaded the two prisoners into the truck.

She kept her eyes on Winters; Ron stood stiffly nearby, his gaze on the ground near her boots; his distance was painful. "Status", Dick inquired.

"Private Jackson took a grenade to the face inside the enemy OP", she spoke emotionlessly, examining Dick's pained expression. Her stomach dropped seeing his disappointment and seeing Ron's shoulders drop in her periphery. She focused her gaze on Dick's scarf, "it was his own grenade", she clarified.

"He died of his wounds, sir", Jones added, his voice solemn; Grace clenched her jaw.

"And the others?" Winters implored.

She shook her head, "no, sir".

Dick nodded, his eyes searching hers, "well executed." Grace dropped her eyes and refocused on his scarf. "It's not our fault", he comforted, his voice gruff and low; his tone hit her right in the gut and Grace pressed her lips together. "Talk to your men", he squeezed her shoulder and nodded, "carry on".

"Yes, sir", Grace responded. Grace turned with Jones to continue on to OP2 where her men would be resting. Her eyes sought out Ron's gaze and her heart froze over, Ron stood looking out and away from her, his shoulders stiff. _I love you_, she said to him in her mind.

"Captain", Jones softly acknowledged the C.O. and Ron broke from his daze. He nodded at Jones and caught Grace's eyes as she walked by.

In the depths of his eyes in the darkness, Grace could see remorse and confliction in the greenness. She knew with that look that he was obviously clashing internally with himself over her position, what they would constantly have to endure should the war continue on.

Swallowing a choked sob, Grace pushed away the fear that Ron may decide he couldn't love her…that once again he wouldn't be able to do this, as she walked directly over to OP2.

Should Ron tell her they should wait, she now understood a new angle of love: people always said when you're in love, the entire world became beautiful and flawless…but that was not the truth. This world was grimy and sad…and her love stood out as a stark relief to the despairing surroundings. It had to be true love…to recognize the striking savior among the despondency of war.

"Good work tonight, Jones", she said softly over her shoulder.

"Thank you, Lieutenant", he offered back. After a pause, he continued, "I assume you'll be heading back to company CP to sack out after seeing the men?"

She shook her head as she entered the building, "don't let me stop you from going to your room…but I'm gonna stay here with the men tonight". He nodded at her silently and she turned and headed up the stairs.

Webster walked in first, followed by Jones with Grace bringing up the rear. Malarkey and Frank were standing in the doorway, Joe hanging off his bunk, a cigarette playing on his lips. The rest of them men who had come on the patrol were lying in their beds…all were awake.

Grace stopped in the doorway and watched as Web shrugged off his pack and lay on his bed; Jones trudged over to an empty chair and stiffly sat down. She kept her eyes forward, feeling Don, Frank, and Joe sizing her up.

"Heard you got two prisoners", Don inquired.

"That's right", Grace affirmed quietly, not wishing to disrupt the men's quiet contemplation.

"Good work", he whispered, nodding over to the men.

"Jackson's dead", Webster announced bluntly.

Grace clenched her jaw and shut her eyes at his crassness, thanking God it was dark in the room; the only light coming from a few candles on the nearby table.

"Yeah, we heard", Joe soothed a moment later.

Taking a breath and opening her eyes, Grace saw Don inches from her, a cigarette between his fingers. Her heart throbbing at the gesture, she thankfully placed it to her lips as he lit it.

Frank stepped forward, "we heard they want another patrol tonight".

Breathing in fully and enjoying the intense burn, Grace held the smoke in and fought the urge to cuss, spit, yell, and laugh all at once. Instead, she steadily blew out the smoke in a thin stream, placing the cigarette elegantly back to her lips.

Feeling the men's gaze on her, she looked around the room, "one day at a time", she whispered, "if Captain Winters needs us to go again, we will go…until we get orders, put it out of your minds". Sensing the tension dissipate, she nodded, "it's late…you guys should get some sleep." She gestured to the empty bunk in the corner, "Lieutenant Jones, you're free to take that bunk". He nodded and walked over to it, lithely falling in as the other men made to lie down and relax.

Sucking in another healthy lung-full of smoke, Grace turned silently on her heel and made her way down the darkened hallway and to the window beside the stairwell. Leaning up against the wall, she breathed out, her breath shaky now away from the men.

Knowing she wasn't going over to CP and she wasn't going to get any sleep anyways…dreams would surely be waiting for her…Grace was satisfied with sitting in the hallway for the rest of the early morning, keeping an eye and an ear out for her men. Looking contentedly out the moonlit window, she slowly finished her cigarette.

"Grace".

"Don?" she squinted through the darkness until he came to a stop beside her by the window, his face illuminated by the moon.

"You should be asleep", she whispered.

"So should you", he countered. Normally she knew she would smirk at his words and they'd rib each other a bit more and be done with it. Instead, she held his gaze and he held hers. "Are you alright?" he sought after a moment.

She took a moment to respond, "…no…but I will be".

If there was anyone o the face of planet who understood her in that moment, it was Donald Malarkey.

Wordlessly, he stepped forward and wound his arms around her waist; her arms came to rest about his shoulders.

She took a deep breath and felt his whiskers brush her cheek as he smiled, "I know what you mean", he mused softly.

**Please, please review! Next chapter under construction already! Should be up soon!**


	39. Chapter 39

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Thank you so, so much to Captain Ty…your words mean so much to me.**

_ "Jackson…stay with me, eyes on me, Jackson!"_

_ "I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die!"_

Breathing in evenly, Grace opened her eyes, "God damnit", she whispered, cursing the echoes of Jackson's screams and the kink in her neck.

She was sitting in the hallway of OP2, under the window, her back pressed against the wall. Looking down, she smirked seeing Don curled up against her side, his head resting on her lap. No wanting to disturb him, Grace remained seated, trying to stretch her neck.

Remembering what they had heard yesterday, that battalion wanted another patrol tonight; she shook her head tensely then glanced back down to Don. He looked peaceful; Grace was happy and grateful that he sat out last night. It was a small justice that he and Joe had the night off…they're indoors, warm, clean. With Jackson's death, she wondered if she would be pressed to call on one of them to fill the void and round out the fifteen men.

Bringing her hands to study them, she grimaced…blood again – Jackson's blood. Her face and BDU's were once again dirty and bloody. Tiredly, she mused if she would ever spend a full twenty-four hours _without_ soiling her clothes again.

"Morning sweethearts", Frank sang out into the hallway. Grace smiled as Don stirred and stretched.

"You two care for coffee and breakfast in bed?" Joe sniggered, his face appearing behind Frank.

"Five more minutes, I'm not giving up my pillow that easy", Don mumbled, laying back down on Grace's thigh.

Oooooooooo

After a few cups of coffee and an uneventful afternoon with her men, who appeared rested, Grace and Jones, accompanied by Johnny and Webster, walked down to the bank of the river to strategize that night's patrol.

Grace had heard no word to report to CP or HQ or anything of the like – in fact, she was left with her men all day; a fact that she enjoyed, but had to admit the neglect from Ron was telling. She knew he was struggling with their new dynamic; it's one thing to be 'involved' as the same rank and in different companies…but the be involved with a direct superior/inferior? That was a whole new ball game and Grace did not know how to proceed.

Surely in a _normal_ relationship, she would be absolutely allowed to make moves and speak up and initiate anything…but this predicament was the furthest thing from normal…and while she and Ron _tried_ to keep their ranks at arm's length while alone with one another, Grace had no idea what was going on in his head…and she didn't know what she was doing, if she was being honest with herself.

She had to speak to him. Squeezing her eyes shut, to clear her thoughts, she took a deep breath.

"When we go over again tonight, we'll need to venture further into the town", Grace said, her eyes sweeping the opposite bank.

"And they'll see us coming this time", Johnny added.

"Do you hear that?" Jones muttered.

She nodded, hearing a faint calling coming from across the river. Spotting Cobb near the bank, she walked forward, "what are you doin', Cobb?"

"Did we leave someone on the bank?" he asked.

Grace clenched her jaw and looked at Johnny, "yeah, yeah we did", Johnny spat out.

"It's the third prisoner that was too far gone to bring back", Jones mused, his eyes resting on the figure near the water.

Webster shrugged, "maybe we should put him out of his misery".

"Fuck his misery", Cobb retorted immediately.

Johnny slung his rifle and patted Grace on the back in parting, "I can't listen to it anymore".

Keeping her face towards the bank, Grace squinted through the gray glare off the nearby snow and zeroed her vision onto the unfortunate man on the bank. Why hadn't the Germans come to claim him and take him to medics? Her heart tugged uncomfortably thinking of one of her own men, lying somewhere and crying out for help…terrified, hurt, and left all alone.

'The briefing is in five minutes, Lieutenant", Jones reminded beside her.

Snapping herself away from the emotional thoughts, Grace nodded, "let's go".

Back in the dusty basement room where Jackson had died hours ago, the men sat and waited for Winters.

They were quiet, murmuring to the man next to them, clicking their weapons and nursing cups of stale coffee.

Grace felt the discontent in the room and wanted so very badly to damper it. Standing behind the large table, she kept her posture straight and confident…wanting the men to feel comforted. She couldn't call off the patrol, couldn't change Sink's mind…but she _could_ do her job and lead these men and make them feel safe under her. That, she knew, she was good at.

"What ya lookin' at, Webster?" Cobb slurred from his position against a pillar in the room. Grace hadn't noticed the bottle in his hand until now. _Fuck_, she thought, _one man down…again_. She narrowed her eyes at Cobb, holding her tongue and waiting to see where this shit was going. When Web remained silent, Cobb smirked, "yeah, that's what I thought, college-boy".

"Cobb…" Grace started, her voice low, eyes on the dusty floor. The already subdued morale in the room did not need his stupid, drunken influence. She looked up then, catching eyes with Jones, who looked intently back at her, waiting for a signal to reprimand him.

Cobb's smirk slid into a miserable grin as he scoffed, "don't even, Grace…don't go and defend him if you know what's good for ya".

The men's stunned silence was brief before Jones turned and addressed him, "that's _Lieutenant _to you, trooper…are you drunk?"

"Leave me alone", Cobb rasped.

"Answer the question", Jones demanded. Joe, Johnny, Moore, Popeye, and Babe looked at Grace, her gaze intensifying and lingering on Cobb.

"Yes, sir, I am drunk, sir", Cobb replied sarcastically, "drunk…sick and tired of fucking patrols…takin' orders…"

This time, Johnny turned around, "Cobb, shut up…it's boring, ok?"

"Takin' his side, Johnny?" he asked pointedly.

"Fuckin' hell", Joe seethed under his breath.

Feeling the tension in the room grow from apprehensive to fed-up, Grace began to walk forward, channeling Ron's intimidating stalk. All noise in the room snuffed out at her actions, all eyes on her. Stopping in front of him, she grabbed the nearly empty bottle from his hands, his eyes wide on her, his jaw tense. "Cobb", she began without blinking in a low and quiet tone, "Cut. The. Shit." Turning around to return to her corner, she tossed the bottle into a trash bin.

Leaning back against the stone wall behind the table, the chatter slowly began again in the room, to Grace's relief. Cobb had shut up and taken a seat on a vacant chair. Looking up, Grace caught Johnny and Jones' eyes and winked, they smirked.

"Lieutenant Grant?" Grace looked over to the doorway, seeing a battalion runner walk into the room, "Captain Winters and Captain Nixon request your presence, they're on the bank with Captain Speirs".

Ignoring her stomach's flip-flop at his name she nodded, "thank you". The runner left the room and Grace turned around looked to Jones, "Jones?" She nodded towards Cobb's slumping figure.

He nodded, "I got it, Lieutenant".

Putting her helmet on and slinging her rifle, Grace walked briskly outside, navigating her way toward the banks. Nearing them, she spotted Dick and Lew but no Ron.

"Sir", Grace addressed, stopping beside Lew.

"Afternoon, Grace", Dick nodded, his face out toward the river. She looked to Lewis, who smiled softly and winked. "So he knows we lost a man?"

Lew looked to Dick, "yeah, he knows". Grace put together the 'he' in question was Sink. "He also knows you picked up two prisoners who talked", he added.

"About what?" Grace asked.

Lew shrugged, "OP…uh supply trouble, Hitler's favorite color…I don't know, none if it gets us across the river".

Dick turned around to look at Grace then Lew, and then shrugged, "then what's the point?"

Lew stepped forward, beside Dick, "honestly, Sink's been on the phone all day bragging it up but I think he's just showing off now". Grace clenched her jaw…so Sink wants another patrol to show off Easy's capability in the field while he can. "I don't know, Dick, I don't know what to tell you. You gave him a successful patrol, now he wants another one".

Grace closed her eyes and sighed internally as Dick muttered exactly what she was thinking, "successful".

Footsteps approached then and Grace's eyes snapped open as they stopped next to her, "Sir", Ron began, "the men are gathered and ready, if you want me to brief them, I'm gonna". His voice was tired and full of gravel; Grace's heart both dropped and sped up at the sound of it. Dick and Lew turned to his voice and Grace kept her eyes across the bank, feeling Lew's stare on her. Ron felt his heart start again at the feeling of Grace's nearness. He had waited for her to come to her room all night to no avail; he had been worried. "It's the same roster as last night", he said, then bit his tongue as Grace's jaw clenched beside him, "well…almost". Ron cursed himself mentally at the mess up.

"Evening 'Gents, and Lieutenant Grant", Sink walked up to them as the four of them straightened up. "At ease." Taking in the view from the bank, Sink slowly turned to them after a beat, looking at each of them, "y'all did a damn fine job on a tough mission last night." He turned to her, "Lieutenant Grant, I'm gonna wish you 'good luck' tonight because I'll be expecting more of the same". Feeling the atmosphere transition from respectful to tense in a drop of a hat, his gaze still on her, Grace nodded once. "Have you briefed the men?" he asked Dick and Lew.

"Just on our way, sir", Lew answered.

"Alright…make sure to tell them how damn proud I am of what they did", Sink patted Dick's shoulder and walked away.

"Yes sir", Lew answered again.

"So I'll brief them now, sir?" Ron inquired.

Grace stared at the back of Dick's neck as he hesitated to answer, "no…no, I'll do it". Turning and walking towards where the men were, Grace and Ron fell in stride behind Dick, Lew behind them. In silence, they walked to the basement and Grace struggled to refrain from reaching out to hold Ron's hand. She gave into the urge to steal a glance at him, and met his olive green eyes on her, radiating the same intensity.

"Ten hut!" Martin called out as they entered the room.

"Martin", Dick acknowledged.

"Sir", he responded.

"At ease", Dick muttered. Grace walked past Ron and Lew, making her way back to her old spot, standing alongside the table. Dick stood at the head of the table to Grace's left as he slipped off his helmet, "you men did an excellent job last night". Grace looked to Lew, who stood across from her; he shared a heavy glance with her before locating Ron, standing at the other end of the table. "I'm proud…I'm proud, I just ran into Colonel Sink and he's proud too…in fact, he's so proud, he wants you to do another patrol across the river tonight". The fatigued silence hung in the air around them as Dick exchanged a mutual look with Grace. He looked down to his watch, "any moment now, the out-post we hit last night will go down in flames, Grace?"

"Yes sir", she answered.

"That means we'd have to venture farther into town this time", Dick clarified, "Captain Speirs, you have the map, please?"

"Yeah…Lieutenant Grant?" he looked to her, handing her the map. Leaning forward, Grace grabbed it and handed it over to Dick, opening it up.

Dick leaned over the map, "we have enemy movement here and here…which means this is our target here." He looked to Grace, then over to the men, "we recovered the boats, so we'll be setting off from the same place as we did last night."

A small alarm bell rang off in Grace's mind…the Krauts had to be on guard tonight, if they set off from the _same place_, they could encounter resistance, "we're not changing the plan at all, sir?" she inquired.

Dick looked to her, a glint in his eye, "…no, the plan is the same. We'll be zero two hundred hours instead of zero one hundred…that clear?"

"Yes sir", the men responded. Grace's insides froze over, contemplating the stress of taking her men _further_ into a town of Krauts who were certain to be ready for them tonight. She would do as she was told, she was their _leader_…and as such, she would take a bullet for each of these men…and with tonight's statistics against them, she just might have to. Grace looked over to Ron, who looked right back.

"Good", Dick sighed, "because I want you all to get a _full_ night's sleep tonight…" in the full silence, Grace looked back over to Winters who was staring right at her, "which means in the morning, _you_ will report to me that you made it across the river, into German lines, and were unable to secure any live prisoners." Grace's heart fluttered at this development and blinked slowly in his direction, understanding. "Understand?" he muttered.

"Yes sir", the men murmured back, disbelievingly.

"Good", eyeing each of them pointedly, Dick folded the map back up and added in a hushed voice, "look sharp for tomorrow; we're moving off the line".

More good news…the dumbfounded silence stretched on as Dick and Lew walked out of the room. Grace looked up; adrenaline sparking through her veins…Ron was still holding his heavy stare. Her lips lifted in a soft smile as he clenched his jaw and followed quickly behind Dick and Lewis. A pang of fear struck her gut like lightening as she watched him leave.

Around her, the men slowly erupted into shocked laughs.

"Did I fuckin' hear that right?" Joe asked. Men laughed and shook hands with one another.

"Off the line…", Babe and Popeye laughed.

"You hear that, Gracie? Holy shit", Moore laughed, clapping her on the back. She smirked at him, shaking her head with him.

Forcing a smile at her men, she hugged them all and laughed as Babe and Joe kissed her on the cheek. She made sure they were all alright and let them know she would be at CP if they needed her.

She needed fresh air…and a shower.

Walking out, the men following after her, Lew called her name, "Gracie, over here". She walked over to Dick and Ron as Lew smirked, "it's a whole new way to fight a war…don't worry about the paperwork, I might enjoy this".

"Alright", Ron answered.

Grace looked down to her watch then back up to the target across the river, "five, four…" Ron and Lew quirked their eyebrows at her as she counted down, "three, two, one".

BOOM!

The men flinched slightly around her as the German out-post blew up fantastically.

She smirked, "I'll never get tired of that".

Dick smirked beside her and began walking to CP, Grace and Lew walking beside him.

Ron walked with them, calling over his shoulder, "Lieutenant Jones, join us at the company CP".

As they walked in, Lew spoke to Dick and Grace, "I hear someone stopped by today, returning from the hospital".

Dick walked in first, "Harry Welsh…welcome back". Grace smiled, her heart warming at the sight of Harry and Lip conversing with George and Skinny.

"Good to be back, Dick", he said, smiling as Dick shook his hand.

As a few men filed in behind them and distracted Dick, Grace grinned at Harry's outstretched arms, "Harry…how the hell are you?" He grabbed her around the waist and hugged her as she laughed.

"I'm good, Gracie", he said, his eyes sparkling as Lew reached in and shook his hand. "Got to catch up on letters to Kitty, so I'm good".

"Did you manage to send your parachute back to the states?" Lew teased.

Harry rolled his eyes, "yes, I did". Dick called Lew over and in the commotion of supplies being brought in and sorted by George, Grace noticed Ron saddle up beside Dick and Lip, while Jones stood near Harry. "I gatta tell, you, kid", Harry continued to her, "what you did in Bastogne…"

She knew he was referring to his wound, "Harry, don't mention it".

"No, I'm serious, Grace…thank you".

She smiled, touched, "of course".

"Another thing…I ran into Buck".

"You did?" she smiled again.

He nodded, his face serious, "yep…I did…and he told me about Foy".

From his place beside Winters, Ron heard Welsh's comment to Grace. His eyes shot up to her, making sure she was all right, gauging her reaction.

She bit her bottom lip and shrugged, "yeah?" Her dark eyes flickered over to him, then focused back on Harry.

Welsh nodded solemnly, "yeah…I'm glad you're ok".

Grace put her hands in her pockets and smiled, "thanks, Harry". She followed him as they were corralled by Dick and Lew in a small adjoining room off the main one; Harry was on her left, and she was pushed against Ron on her other side. Grace realized then that Lip was getting his battlefield commission.

"First Sergeant Carwood Lipton, your honorable discharge as an enlisted man", Dick announced proudly, "and you official battlefield commission as a Second Lieutenant". Presenting Lip his papers and his hand to shake, Dick smiled, "Congratulations, Carwood".

"Thank you, sir", Lip said, his cheeks pink from the attention as he shook his hand.

"Congratulations Lip", Lew laughed, shaking his hand.

"Lieutenant", Ron nodded, smiling at Lip.

"I'm happy for you, Lip, Congratulations", Grace grinned.

Lip grinned back at her, taking her hand and placing a kiss on her cheek, "thank you, Grace". He turned to Harry and shook his hand, "welcome back, sir".

"Ah, come on, it's Harry", he winked.

Lew turned to him, "speaking of which, Harry, I'm surprised to see you this soon…I figured you'd be nursing that scratch of yours for another month or two".

Grace laughed as Harry rolled his eyes, "you missed me and you know it…scratch, please…Angel here can tell you that it was _not_ a scratch".

Grace watched as Ron walked forward and out the side door, Lip and Harry following after him. She ignored the headache that was blooming behind her eyes.

Lew walked up to Grace as Dick turned to Jones and handed him a paper of his own, "regiment has seen it fit to promote you to battalion…you'll be headed for a position up there. Congratulations and good luck." Jones smiled and shook Dick's hand, then Lew's and the two of them headed outside.

Jones turned to Grace and she offered her hand, "congratulations, Lieutenant Jones…and thank you…for everything".

Jones leaned down and kissed her cheek, "thank _you_, Lieutenant Grant…good luck, with everything".

She smiled and nodded, letting go of his hand, "you as well". He turned to speak to Webster as she turned to get outside and smoke a cigarette and to get her mind together.

Breathing in deeply when she walked outside, Grace noted the sun was just disappearing, rendering the clouds above them dark; the only light now coming from a few specific lights from indoors.

Her thoughts were scattered. She did not know what she was going to do about this odd episode with Ron…she did not know what to say or how to start. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she grimaced, looking for her cigarettes and realizing her pockets were empty.

"Hey", she looked up, Lew was approaching her, "can you use one of these?"

He produced his pack of Lucky's and she smirked, "if you're offering..."

"For you…always", he scoffed.

Lighting two of them, he handed over one, "thank you", she quipped. Taking a good drag, she turned to him, "how have you been, Lew…apart from being the only man here who can't find a razor?"

He laughed good-naturedly, "I've been around, Gracie-bird. I was worried as all hell last night though…" he trailed off.

"The patrol?"

"Oh yeah", he nodded. The two of them were both leaning against the side wall of CP, the smoke they exhaled billowing up into the night clouds. "Speirs was petrified", he added almost as a side note and under his breath.

"Was he?" she murmured.

Lew nodded silently, and then looked at her, studying her profile, "everything alright in that department?" Grace knew she hadn't told Lew any developments regarding her and Ron since her revelation in Aldbourne. She was aware he had eyes and could observe…but that was only the tip of the iceberg.

Blowing smoke down to her cigarette, she took a second to enjoy the way the tip glowed brighter. "Jackson died. He took his own grenade blast to the face. I couldn't reach him fast enough before he ran up the stairs." She spoke in a low, quiet voice, "_I_ didn't die, but someone else did, you know? He doesn't _need_ to be…like that…it doesn't ensure my safety, or anyone else's." Grace didn't know exactly what she was saying…all she knew was that she didn't like the idea of someone being _grateful_ it wasn't her that was dead. It was an absolutely hypocritical feeling, she knew…but she couldn't help it…fucking stubborn.

She turned to look at him, his eyes were wide and his voice was serious, "in Bastogne…when you disappeared, I was given your dog tags and the compass. I had to tell him what happened to you and give him the compass back…I knew that was why you had left them." Grace kept her breathing measured and her face on his. "When I told him, he went white…I gave him the compass and when he saw it, he about fell over…he stopped breathing then demanded to see your body…he thought we found you after that barrage; I told him you were missing…that your things had been found by a tree." Lew shook his head at the memory, "he _knows_ what it feels like…a world without you…and now that he knows _that_, it's impossible to not to flinch when you run out into the fray".

"I'm sorry", Grace whispered.

"Why?" Lew drawled, "You were defending your men. I'd like to think if I had big balls like you, I would have done the same thing."

She shook her head, "No, I'm just sorry…I don't know". She felt guilty…about everything; for Ron's constant state of panic when it came to her safety. The man could never get a break…not with his company seeing so much action…and her being the leader of the main assault platoon. Grace finished her cigarette, flicking it away, and turned back to him, "thank you for telling him".

"Of course".

"Do you remember the church in Rechamps?" Lew nodded and she continued in a hushed voice, "he told me he loved me". Lew sighed as her lip quivered, "he loves me…and all I do is hurt him…"

Lew frowned, "what?"

Trying to swallow her emotions, she shook her head, "all the patrols, all the action, everything…I'm always in it, you know? I wouldn't like it if _he_ went on a patrol…I'd be a wreck too. I'm worried…"

"Why?"

"I'm worried that he can't do this", she admitted, "since before Bastogne, he always said 'we can't do this'…and I knew what he meant, I never disagreed with him…it's hard fighting and knowing the person you love is out there too." She sighed, feeling deflated, "I'm worried it's happening again…"

Lew shook his head, "I'm sorry. I don't know what to tell you. I want to fix it…but I can't…you need to talk to him".

"…I know".

Remaining silent for another minute, Lew finished his cigarette then turned to her, "we've all been under a shit ton of stress lately…that can take a toll on any 'relationship'…sometimes it helps to put distance there…take a mental breather."

Grace smirked miserably, "how do you do _that_ when the man is your superior officer?"

"There's a jump into Germany next week with the 17th…I've been asked to go…and they asked me if I could recommend a Lieutenant, platoon leader type." His dark eyes bored into hers, "it won't be for long…we'll be back with our men within a week, it's just for intelligence and they need people with experience."

Contemplating the idea of a _fourth _jump under her belt, Grace's old competitiveness bubbled up to the surface and made her feel warm, "I'll think about it".

"No one knows and they'd like it to stay that way", Lew explained, "you'll need to make a decision by tomorrow".

"You got it", she nodded.

"Good, now let's get inside before you catch a cold".

Ooooooooo

Grace knew it was time to bite the bullet. Once she made it to her room, she walked directly over to his door and knocked.

Nothing.

No answer; she opened the door and poked her head inside, seeing an empty room. Looking to the bathroom and seeing the door open and the light off, she knew he wasn't there at all. Sighing, she looked back into her room, her gaze falling on a clean uniform sitting on her bed. Itching to get clean again, she grabbed it up and walked straight to the bathroom attached to Ron's room.

Ooooooooo

Ron was stalling. He had taken his time over with battalion in hopes that Grace would make it to her room before he made it to his; he couldn't wait again, not tonight.

The night prior, after the patrol, after hearing she had lost a man, Ron had waited for her to come to her room. He wanted to comfort her…he could see the distress etched in her features when she briefed Winters after the patrol. He had attempted to give her space, not wishing to crowd her, but he knew his actions had backfired when it was four in the morning and she _still_ wasn't in her room.

He had wanted her in his bed; wanted her laying beside him with their hands locked together, their legs entwined. He had closed his eyes and tried to imagine, as he had done many times before, the feeling of her face pressed against his neck. Try as he might, he could never conjure up the quiet sound of her breathing – his imagination had its limits. He wanted to feel her stir in his arms so he could whisper 'go back to sleep' so he could hold her when she did.

Ron had imagined all this in Toccoa, in England, across Europe…every night. He wanted the satisfaction of _knowing_ she was safe in _his_ protection.

He had hesitated to get back to his room tonight…hesitant to see any evidence of reluctance on her part to encounter him. His heart was so tender for her but his resolve was ironclad when it came to his conviction of keeping her safe. Hell, she was in the company of the best paratroopers on the planet…_no_ harm could possibly come to her; the men adore her too much…Ron knew that, but there was no way to silence the compulsion to protect her _himself_.

As he walked into his room, Ron heard the shower on in the bathroom; the door closed and light spilling out underneath. The door connecting to her room was open, the clean uniform he had left there was missing…she was in his shower.

Sighing in relief, Ron went to the fireplace and added a new piece of wood to the leftover bits from last night.

Grace turned off the shower, dried off, and slipped into her clean uniform. Toweling off her hair and leaving it down to dry, Grace hung up her towel, turned, and opened the door.

He was in his room, sitting on his bed, his face illuminated by a crackling fire.

"Ron". "Grace". They said in unison.

"Are you alright?" "Where were you last night?" They both spoke again.

They both smiled at each other and Ron held his hand out, signaling for her to speak. "I was with my men last night." When he remained silent, she continued, placing her old uniform folded on a nearby chair, "morale is obviously up…they're happy to have a full night's sleep". She approached him slowly; he held out his hand and she placed hers in his. He pulled her to him gently; she sat beside him on the bed, his arms encircling her waist. She felt her body press against his warmth and she sighed. She ran her fingers through his hair softly and kissed his temple, "are you ok?" she whispered.

Nodding once, then shaking his head and sighing, Ron struggled to say what he had been grappling with since they pulled into Hagenau, "I…I just…"

Grace shook her head, frightened at the prospect of hearing his old phrase 'I can't do this'. Extracting herself from him embrace, she shook her head, "don't, please don't say it".

"No", he reacted immediately, shifting to cup her face. He recognized the deflated look on her face and his heart clenched, "that's not it; I would never".

"I'm worried…" she began, trying to echo what she had said to Lew earlier.

"About what?" he urged her to continue.

"I'm scared…", she took a breath, "scared that…you're going to realize that…"

"Grace…that, what?"

She closed her eyes, "that I'm not worth all the trouble I put you through".

Ron was stunned. Gently grabbing her face, he placed a kiss to her closed eyes, "no…it's the opposite. I'm not good at this; I don't know how to do this. But I _do_ know that I have never wanted anything as much as I want to hold you every waking moment." She opened her eyes to him, as she absorbed the stress written on his handsome face. He continued, "it's so easy for me to love you that it scares me…but long ago the question ceased to be 'how can I love you' and quickly became 'how could I not'".

She pressed her cheek to his, kissing his cheek and then leaning back, "you _are_ good at this…your words are divine. With one sentence, you make me feel better, you make me feel safe".

"I'm no good at watching you in action. My job is to protect you…I sent you into that fire fight last night…you could have been hurt…"

"But I wasn't, I was fine…I _am_ fine."

"That's not the point", he insisted. "How do I _do_ this?" he asked rhetorically, "how could I put you out there like that…I hate myself for it".

"I went out there because it's my job…and you put me there because that's your job…that's all".

He smiled sadly and shook his head, leaning toward her and kissing her softly. Breathing into the kiss and placing his hand on her neck, he pulled away and confessed softly, "I don't feel fear…not like others, I don't…but the only time I feel fear that brings me to my knees is when I think of you in harm". Caressing her face absently, he admired the play of the firelight along the curves of her beautiful face as he mused, "I would sooner take my own life than allow any harm to come to you".

Breathless, Grace blinked away tears…she had only read lines like that in classic romance novels, not believing any real man would say that…but when _he_ said it, she believed every syllable. "is _this_ what is going to happen every time after we're called upon to fight?" she whispered, "it's not over yet…this isn't healthy to do after every bit of action we see". She shook her head, "I love you, I love you so much…and I don't know what I'm doing either. I have never felt like this…for anyone before", she smiled tightly, unable to keep the tears from prickling at her eyes, "I would burn worlds down just to see that smile of yours", she breathed.

His face broke into the smile she loved, "I've seen you in action, love, and I know you could take anything down". He kissed her dimples as she smirked at him. "This isn't healthy, I know…" he took a deep breath, "I can't ask you to step down as platoon leader".

"No…I wouldn't leave my men".

"I know…I'm sorry I said that", he muttered, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched hers, "before Foy, I thought I had lost you…it _ripped_ my heart out." Grace took his hands in hers, as he continued, "…I _knew_ that without you, there was no one else for me...but I got you back. And now…when I have to order you out, like last night…when those bullets started flying, I imagined the worst, I couldn't help it".

"I understand, Ron, I do."

"I love you", he stressed.

"I love you too".

His eyes searched hers, "stay with me tonight", he whispered, seeing both their faces growing tired.

Smiling softly, she nodded, her heart dancing inside…how long had she dreamed of hearing those words from him?

Ron smiled too and tugged the blankets and sheets back. Pushing off his boots, he hesitated, realizing that he typically would push off his BDU pants as well. Noticing Grace's stilled movements, he looked to her.

"I usually only sleep in my t-shirt and shorts", she confessed, giggling softly.

"Same here".

She shrugged nervously; "I don't mind if _you_ don't…" she trailed off, her cheeks turning pink.

"I don't mind at all", he stated, his voice clear. Grace smiled; thankful she had access to the shower and a good razor, as she pushed off her boots and nudged her BDU pants down her legs. Shrugging out of her BDU over shirt, she turned to Ron, seeing his eyes rake down her long, pale legs. The chill of the room had gotten to her…and she remembered she hadn't bothered to put on her bra. Biting her lip, she brought her arms up to her chest nonchalantly as Ron smiled fully at her, noticing what she was trying to do. "Ladies first", he murmured.

Grace leaned over and crawled onto his bed, slipping under the cool covers. Her heart pounded as Ron edged in after her; he pulled the covers over both of them and bent down, placing a soft kiss to Grace's lips. She smiled and turned to her side and looked over her shoulder, inviting him to her. He curled himself around her, his arm holding her protectively against his body.

"I can feel your heart beating", she whispered tenderly, her eyes closing.

Ron smiled, taking in her scent, "I love you", he repeated. He knew that she hear him, but she drifted to sleep…and he smiled again, finally hearing the music of her soft breathing next to him.

**More to come soon….please review!**


	40. Chapter 40

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Thank you, thank you for all the lovely reviews! **

"When a man truly loves a woman, she becomes his weakness; when a woman truly loves a man, he becomes her strength".

The gray morning light illuminated the room, bathing the bed and the two figures huddled in it in a soft glow. Quietly, Grace stirred from sleep, her body nestled against him still…warm, comfortable, _contented_. She could not help the lazy smile that spread across her face. God, how long had she imagined this?...waking up to his arms around her. For the first time since she had left the states in 1940, Grace had felt rested. Biting back a welling of emotion, she snuggled closer to his warmth; she felt his lips curve into a smirk against her ear.

"Good morning", he whispered, mentally noting this was the _first_ of many intended mornings with her.

Goosebumps appearing on her flesh from his husky whisper, Grace sighed lazily, "it is a good morning", she whispered back.

Ron chuckled softly, agreeing silently with her, as he pressed a kiss behind her ear. She stretched her neck to him in pleasure, as she pressed her body back against his chest. Squeezing her eyes shut as he trailed feathered kisses from her ear to her neck, Grace's heart melted…how was she so lucky? They had been through so much, so much potential for death, destruction had met them…and now, here they are – in bed _together_, exchanging intimate morning greetings.

Feeling her sigh and her body mold against him, Ron kept his lips against her neck and lifted his hand from her waist, his fingers pulling on her hip, dragging her closer to him. The months, years, he had envisioned waking by her side paled in comparison to the real thing. _This_ was the best morning of his life.

Giving into the heat his fingers felt from her skin, he gently slipped his hand just under her shirt, brushing the paleness of her hip and stomach. His heart pounded at her intake of breath, emboldened by her closeness, and splayed his entire palm over her stomach. Her skin was so soft and warm; his lips latched themselves to her neck.

Grace's heart thudded in her chest, her body alight with need, knowing where this could lead…where his hands could venture. Turning slightly in his tight embrace, she lifted her arm, her hand resting behind her, on his neck; her fingers immediately seeking refuge through his dark hair.

Her lips suddenly found his, and Ron moaned lightly into her kiss and the feeling of her fingers in his hair. Pressing himself into her, he kissed her passionately as his hand slid up her body, resting in the slight valley between her breasts. He could feel her heart pound itself against his hand, feeling almost as if it wanted to be caressed as well. His body responded heatedly to her need, to _his_ effect on her.

She opened her mouth to him and his tongue explored her gently, erotically. He was _ravishing_ her merely with his mouth…Grace grew light headed at the potency of his desire, the urgency of his breath, and the heat of his palm on her chest.

As she kissed him back with just as much ferocity, Ron felt his longing for her course all the way down to his toes. His hand slid to the right, amorously, cupping her bare breast in his hand. Arching her back into his touch, she moaned breathily into their heated kiss. Feeling her nipple pebble to his contact, Ron groaned softly, his heart hammering. _He was touching her_…good God, how long he had wanted to touch her.

Now nearly facing him completely, Grace hooked her leg over his hip, pulling herself closer to him, his touch sending waves of need through to her core. Tenderly kneading her breast in his hand, teasing her skin, and making her squirm against him, Ron sighed lustfully as she brought her hips against his, pulling her weight on top of his and straddling him.

She leaned over, keeping her lips moving sensually against his as his other hand joined beneath her shirt to embrace her other breast. Ron tenderly teased her nipples with his thumbs and smiled into their kiss as Grace gasped and moaned sexually into his mouth.

She ground her hips into his, making contact with his manhood in retaliation to his actions. Instantly, Ron bucked into her, her satisfied laugh softly filling their mouths. Sitting up, Ron kept her on his lap as one hand rapidly pulled her shirt over her head.

Suddenly, she was topless before him and Ron had _never_ seen anything more beautiful, tempting, erotic, or striking. Her skin was creamy and smooth, the morning light casting soft shadows around the curves on her breasts. Ron's affectionate growl filled the room as he pulled her body against his, his mouth descending onto a rosy peek of one of her perfect breasts.

Above him, Grace threw her head back at his ministrations. "Oh God", she breathed, her hips moving against his. "Ron…" she whimpered; still lavishing her with his mouth, Ron moaned in response to her sighing his name like that, her hands fisted in his dark locks.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. "Captain Speirs, sir?"

Ron suddenly cradled Grace carefully and flipped himself over her, covering her dignity with his body, his face turned toward the closed door. "What?!" he called ferociously, his chest heaving.

"We're moving out in half an hour, sir. Major Winters requires your presence", whoever the battalion runner was, he spoke in a quick and clipped tone.

"Dismissed", Ron spat out. He looked down to Grace; seeing her pinned beneath him, topless, a blush blossoming under her skin, he groaned painfully and put his face against her neck. "What I would _give_ to keep this going".

Clutching the shirt on his back and just as breathless as him, Grace nodded, "I know…_fuck_ I know. God that felt good", she whispered.

Ron sighed kissed her neck then laid his head down on her chest, "that runner better transfer battalions…or I _will_ find him and kill him".

"He said _Major _Winters", Grace mused.

"Guess that means he got a promotion", Ron muttered, focusing in on Grace's steadying heartbeat under his ear.

Squeezing her eyes shut at the feeling of his hot breath ghosting over her sensitive chest, Grace shivered, "if you don't move off me, you'll regret it".

Ron groaned at her shudder, "hmmm, that sounds promising".

She smiled as he did not move, "I mean it", she warned.

"So do I", he retorted, sliding against her and taking his time, torturing her.

Grace sat up, forcing him to a sitting position. Gracefully, she leaned over to retrieve her discarded shirt. Glancing up to him and seeing his flushed face and olive eyes raking her bare chest, she grinned. Placing a hand on his stubbled cheek, she smiled as his eyes skipped to hers. "Next time, when we don't get interrupted, I expect this to continue…" she breathed over his features.

Ron swallowed, "…yes…tell me how…"

"Your hands…on me", she pleaded, "…_all_ over me".

He smirked darkly, shaking his head, "you're not making this any easier".

"I know", she nodded as she slipped on her undershirt, grabbing her BDU pants and shirt, "but I love you".

"I love you more", he retorted.

"Ha!" she laughed as she walked next door into her room, "please".

Ooooooooo

Grace was finishing tucking in her BDU shirt and clipping on her ammo belt and side arm when her own door knocked.

"Lieutenant Grant?"

She strode to the door and opened it to the runner on the other side, "yes?"

"Captain Nixon requested you presence and your _answer_ outside", he replied.

Grace nodded, knowing Lew wanted to know her answer on the jump he was participating in over Germany, "understood…I'll be out shortly".

Closing the door to the retreating runner, she knew she needed to tell Ron her intentions.

She was going to jump on Germany.

With Foy behind her, Ron beside her, and the war's end feeling near, Grace was stretching back into a familiar skin…she felt like herself. Her competitive nature was bubbling to the surface again, the need for _one more_ jump, to have that distinction above others sounded too good to pass up.

She understood Ron wouldn't be too pleased with the interruption in their lives…they had only just begun exploring their relationship…but after their beginnings in Hagenau, the conflicting feelings between love and work, Grace rationalized this jump would provide them an appropriate 'space'. Space that Lew suggested might be good for them…space that would make things better.

Ron made her strong. She had been fearful that after Foy, she would no longer be the same person she had been before, but with him…with his love…she was stronger than before.

They needed this space…he needed to command Easy, she needed to reclaim her bravery…this was right.

Grace walked into his room just as he was sliding his handgun into its holder. She smiled and took a deep breath, "I have something to tell you".

Ron looked up; his smile stilling on his face, "what's that?"

"Well, Lewis has been asked to join a jump over Germany with the 17th...they asked him to bring someone else…an officer, platoon leader…and he asked if I was interested. I think I am".

"When would you leave?"

Grace shrugged, "he needed an answer by this morning, he only told me last night…but I'm guessing within the next couple days; we'll be back mid week."

Ron nodded, his brow furrowing, "what's the jump for?"

"Intelligence."

"Then what do they need an officer for?"

"I'm guessing there's a number of replacements…if they asked Lew to go, there's no real officer besides a couple NCO's…and none of which have my experience".

Ron fiddled with his garrison cap stuck in his belt, his lips tight; he nodded sharply, "you're the perfect candidate".

She walked forward, towards him, her arms circling his hips, "we're moving off the line, you won't be called upon for any patrols or anything like that for the next week…my platoon and my men will be ok with Malarkey or Lip in charge, whoever you think…then I'll be back before you know it".

Leaning down and kissing her, his hands cupping her face, Ron rested his forehead against hers. "I feel like I _just_ got you back", he confessed in a whisper, "…and now he's takin' you away…"

Grace furrowed her brow slightly, "that's not what it's about…"

"No, I know that…", he sighed, "it's just the principle of the thing, Angel". She grinned at his words and his laughed, "what's so funny?"

"You used my little nickname", she chuckled.

He smiled and kissed her again, "I guess I did…it fits, you know".

Straightening his tie, Grace leaned back, her expression growing serious, "I would like your blessing before I tell Lew I'm on for the jump".

"Of course you have it…just promise me you'll be safe", he implored in a low voice.

"I will be", she promised.

Ooooooooo

Once outside, Grace spotted Dick and Lew together; Lew saluting Dick beside a jeep. Around them, her men were gathering near their truck, Lieutenant Jones saying his goodbyes.

Grace jogged over to second platoon's truck, making sure they were all there and okay for a long ride. Lieutenant Jones intercepted her before climbing into his own jeep, "Lieutenant Grant…good luck to you".

She nodded to him, a prideful smile on her features, "you as well, Lieutenant Jones…all the best". He nodded and slid into his jeep, saluting. She turned towards her men, walking to the back of the truck and throwing a few packs onto the back, helping them out, "we all good here fellas?"

"Yes ma'am", Babe announced, jumping onto the back of the truck.

"Thanks Grace", Don smiled as Grace helped throw his pack onto the vehicle.

Standing there, Grace debated on riding with her men after telling Lew her answer regarding the Germany jump. Before she could slip her gun onto the truck, Joe saddled up beside her and muttered good-naturedly in her ear, "why don't you go ride with your sweetheart, Gracie…we'll be fine, I promise".

She smirked at him and he winked at her for good measure. She nodded, "alright, alright…you know where I'll be". As she neared Dick and Lew, they both turned to her and Grace nodded to Dick, "congratulations, Major Winters".

Dick smiled, bashful at the small praise, "thank you, Grace". He turned to the jeep, tucking away his weapon.

Lew turned his face to her, "you got an answer for me?"

Grace nodded, "count me in".

"You're with me?" Lew grinned.

"I'm with you", she confirmed.

"We leave tomorrow", he informed her, "it'll be light packing and everything we need will be set up by them…all we have to do is show up at the air field".

"We're getting the real treatment, aren't we? Like Jimmy Stewart", she teased.

"Only the best for us, Gracie-bird".

"We all set to go?" Ron asked swiftly, walking up to the jeep.

"I'll drive", Dick called out, sitting in the front seat, Lew following next to him.

Ron held out his hand and Grace took it as he helped her jump into the back of the jeep, following in right after.

Ooooooooo

March 1945

The next day, Easy Company was headed toward the town of Sturzelburg, Germany. After years, they had finally made it into Germany.

Lewis and Grace, however, were transported shortly after to a marshalling area in France. Grace's heart burned at the inability to properly say 'goodbye' to Ron. Their departure was so sudden, Dick didn't even know they had left…and with all the other men milling about, all she could do was grasp his hand tightly while he whispered 'I love you' into her ear.

On the trip there, Lew showed Grace the intelligence papers regarding the jump they were going to make with the 17th Airborne Division. The target was technically behind enemy lines…the town of Westphalia, east of the Rhine River in Germany.

Grace and Lew were to make the jump and hang back with the higher ups while the men took out the targets so they could gather information. The mission was pretty straight forward and black and white.

The jump was scheduled for early the next morning; Lew and Grace made it to the marshalling area just after the sunset.

The Colonel, Major, and Captain and Commanding Officers along with leading Officers for the 17th, had been informed of a Captain Nixon and a First Lieutenant Grant…they were _not_ informed, however, that one of them was a woman.

The stunned silence that followed Lew and Grace's entrance to the temporary CP was brief but meaningful.

Lewis introduced them both, and Grace made sure to shake their hands with a steady and strong grip. To their credit, their gaze changed from doubtful and guarded to accepting and responsive when she was pressed to list off her resume to them.

Lew had attempted to apologize that night in their tent, but Grace had shut him down.

"Are you kidding? I'm used to that by now".

Lew shrugged, shifting on his cot beside hers, "doesn't make it right".

After a thoughtful silence, Grace turned to him, "you nervous about tomorrow?"

"Not really…should be routine", he turned to her pensive face, "_you _nervous?"

Yawning, she shook her head, "we're just jumping out of a plane…so it should be like any other day".

Ooooooooo

The next morning was crisp and clear, perfect day for flying…Grace was thankful they would not have to postpone the jump due to weather.

Once they were driven to the airstrip, Grace and Lew slipped into their normal routine. It was like muscle memory…the ritual of putting on the jump harness, the backpack and parachute.

Most of the other men jumping who were near, watched them with curiosity, mimicking their shortcuts and tricks-of-the-trade…a large majority of them were performing their first jumps.

Lew and Grace remained in companionable silence before the jump, helping one another into their outfits and tossing their airsickness pills into their pockets…those things never worked anyways.

As they stood in their stick, the planes roared to life and Grace got chills from the memories the deep sound evoked.

Once they got into the plane, their seats directly beside the doorway, Lew turned to her and winked, "you ready for this?!"

She nodded once and called back, "we were born for this!"

**This is one of the shortest, but I needed to end it here for what's coming next…stay tuned, it'll be a whopper.**

**Let me know what you're thinking and review!**

**Until next time…xoxo**


	41. Chapter 41

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Thank you so very much to LIZZE1708, NIXJEN, MAGGIE McMARTNEY, AUSSIEGIRL-1988, and CAPTAIN TY…your thoughtful reviews seriously made my day!**

**I am LITERALLY drinking VAT69 as I write this. I'm takin' one for the team to get into character. Cheers. **

BRRRRR BRRRR BRRRR

The engine of the plane was such a familiar sound; Grace paid no mind to it at all, preferring instead to focus her energy on the impending jump. Something she could not ignore, however, was the sky-high nervous ambience circling her from the young replacements in the plane.

Her first jump was in 1941…_1941_…and here she was, doing it again for a fourth time. Chuck would have had a heart attack if he were to see her now.

Since Chuck could not be here, she knew Ron was having a heart attack in his place. She mused if Chuck would like Ron for her…or would he act with a slim veil of indifference like Lewis had. Grace preferred to believe Chuck and Ron would have made good friends.

_Ron…_

Despite herself, she smiled.

Her thoughts rapidly traveled to their actions in bed the last morning in Hagenau, his hot kisses trailing on her skin, her heart accelerating at his hands…his mouth on her. God, while it certainly was intimate, Grace couldn't help but imagine how much more intense it would get should they venture _further_ into their physical relationship.

This war better end soon so she could lock Ron in a room and lose the key.

Suddenly, the plane lurched and made a turn. Beside her, Lew nudged her shoulder, "are we heading south?"

Frowning and retrieving her compass, Grace studied it…the needle pointed to the 'S'. She nodded to him, a concerned look on her face, "yes, we are."

Over the loudness of the engines, Lew groaned and shook his head, producing a small map of the area, "we should be heading east for another thirty minutes!"

Grace was confused, "that would put us _miles_ away from the DZ! We won't even be in German-controlled territory!"

BRMMZZZZ…..

The aircraft lurched again, one side dipping down suddenly.

Grace fell out of her seat and Lewis grabbed onto her rapidly.

At the front of the plane, the jump light switched from 'red' to 'green'. Gravity shifted, and the plane bounced once more, violently.

BOOM!

One of the propellers outside the door exploded, sending everyone to the ground. Black smoke poured from the wing, the plane beginning to twist and angle itself to the earth below.

"Jesus Christ!" Lew yelled.

Grace turned to the rest of the men, all of whom had been thrown out of their seats, "hook up! Hook up!" she commanded, calling over the plane's sputtering. She needed to get these men the hell off the plane.

The men near her, within earshot, tried to stand and hook themselves into the line. Grace scrambled up and turned to Lew, attempting to hook him in. He lunged to her and the plane twisted again. Reaching forward, Lew snatched her pack and quickly hooked her onto the line.

BOOM!

Before Grace could grab his pack, another propeller burst, sending her to the ground.

BBZZZZZ…..

The plane was spiraling downwards, men all around her were yelling and shouting to push towards the open doors…the velocity of the twirling plane was pinning everyone to the floor, not allowing them to move at all.

Gravity let up suddenly and Lew shoved Grace to the open door.

"GO! GO NOW!" he screamed to her.

She fought hard against his palms on her back, "NO!", she shouted back. Spinning against his hands, Grace threw her weight back, leaping for the hook on his pack.

She grabbed his pack and hook just as the plane spun again. "GRACE! JUMP NOW!"

Ignoring him, Grace grunted as she strained above to hook him in, all the while he pushed and pulled against her waist, trying to throw her out of the plane.

_This would not happen to her again…not Lewis._

Men around them screamed and the aircraft groaned as it turned in a barrel roll. Ammunition boxes, guns, and extra packs flew about the cavity of the plane, becoming dangerous as they swooped by Grace's head; a large ammo box nearly hit her just as she managed to hook Lewis in.

**BOOM!**

The other wing's propellers exploded, filling the remaining air with thick smoke and flames.

Breathing hard, her gaze and will focused solely on the open door, the horizon approaching her view, Grace hooked her arm through the straps of Lew's pack and hurled herself and Lewis through the door and out into the air.

Spinning…

Falling…

Their lines from their chutes tangled, Lew and Grace fell together, down to the ground.

SLUMP

The plummet took mere seconds.

Landing on top of Lew, Grace grunted in pain at the sharp fall. Beneath her, Lew groaned. They both remained there for a moment, catching their breath.

Grace could hear the sounds of a fire nearby in the woods – no doubt, the wreckage of their plane…their plane that blew up…that Lew tried to throw her out of. This was the second plane explosion she'd endured.

_Fucking twice_.

Her fear and anxiety blasting its way into rage, she struggled to get off Lewis, the lines from their chutes tangled all together. Sorely extracting herself from the heap, Grace looked around…no one but the two of them had managed to get out.

Lew moaned, turning to sit up on the field. Grace's lip trembled as she shook from fury, "what the FUCK is wrong with you?!"

Breathing hard and climbing to his knees, Lew shook his head, "…ME?!"

"Yes, you!" she yelled.

"YOU'RE the one who wouldn't jump! What the fuck is wrong with YOU?!" he yelled back.

"You were going to push me out!" her voice broke, "Did you think I was going to leave you there?"

"You damn well should have!" his deep voice straining.

"Are you fucking kidding?" her voice was hoarse now; she was breathing hard still and shoving her pack off her shoulders.

Lew threw down his chute and pack in anger, "for fuck's sake, Grace, would you just fucking stop!"

"STOP WHAT?"

"THESE FUCKING DRAMATICS!" he screamed in her face, "ENOUGH!"

Glaring at him, her breathing still labored and shaky, now from anger, Grace held his gaze hotly for a moment before throwing her helmet to the ground. Turning abruptly from him, Grace felt cool tears trek down her flushed face, evidence of the supreme stress and agony from what had just happened.

"Fuck", she murmured, frustrated, her hand wiping up her face and into her disheveled hair. _What a disaster_.

Lew hesitated behind her, his heart sinking at their outburst. Seeing her shoulders quiver slightly, he cursed himself and dug into his pack retrieving the phone box. Holding the receiver to his ear, he typed in the numbers to contact the 17th Airborne. "This is Captain Lewis Nixon, 506, 101st Airborne…I need a jeep".

Oooooooo

Her head in her hands, knees resting on her elbows, and her posture hunched, Grace sat in the back of the jeep attempting to quell her raging headache and the compelling urge to begin screaming at Lewis again.

What on Earth had happened?! Both to the aircraft and Lew's actions.

Grace berated herself – they had to have had more time to have gotten more men out. She had failed them…just as she had failed Meehan.

The horror of what had trespassed on D-Day had long since been half-hazardly buried…this terrorizing incident had torn apart the veil she had cast over her memories, rendering her numb. Lew's actions in the plane rocked her to her very core. If she hadn't seen that opportunity, she could have lost him. Swallowing the urge to wretch, she shuddered at the thought. She had already lost Chuck…if she lost Lew, she would have no more family…no one else who knew her _back then_, _before _the war…and she would have never forgiven herself.

Her stomach turned worse at the thought of Ron's reaction to the failed jump.

_Failed jump_…what an understatement.

Her eyes stung visualizing the young and eager faces of the other men on their plane.

God, how was this fair? How had she been fortunate enough to survive all she had…and jumped through _another _hoop? When would her fucking luck run out?

Silently, she cursed her fate…just when you think you're safe, you let your guard down and _this _happens…_fate waits for you and fucks you_.

Ron…_oh my God_…Ron…if the tables were turned, and she found out what could have happened to him, she would be upset and beside herself. She could really only guess what his reaction to all this shit could be.

Her shoulders slumped again, replaying what Lew had done before they got out. Why had he been so insistent to be left behind? Why did he do that? Anger seeped back in, souring her stomach and chilling her veins.

Lewis sat drooping in the passenger seat of the jeep in front of Grace. His posture bounced with the vehicle's movements, his body and emotions stunted with the shock of what had occurred. _Routine_…it was supposed to be routine…_Jesus_…Grace could have been killed…he could have been killed.

When the plane began going down, his brain and body had reacted instantly and on autopilot; he had _needed _to get her out. He didn't understand why she had resisted until they were both on the ground: she had been trying to get him out too.

Her tone afterwards, after they had landed, had been something he had never heard. Her voice, typically melodic, tranquil, and confident…was hoarse, her breathing labored, and her intensity shook with accusation. It was clear she had been stressed and angry.

Lew shook his head; good God, he nearly got her killed; it was his fault she was on this godforsaken mission in the first place. Lighting a cigarette, Lew shook his head; Speirs could go fuck himself…there was _no way_ he would be speaking to him alone when they got back to Easy. Speirs would make Lew wish he was back up on the flaming plane once he found out what had happened and how close Grace had _once again _been to death.

Their surroundings changed as the jeep made its way into town…into Sturzelburg with the rest of their outfit. They sped into town, racing past OP's and into the center of their brief occupation.

Lew looked up in time to see their vehicle nearly take out Speirs…who stood on the side of the road holding a pile of silver…._looting again_.

Ron stepped back just in time as a jeep barreled past him, the front bumper hitting a silver tea tray dangling from his left hand. His gaze focused in on who was in the jeep.

_Grace and Nixon_…what the hell?

It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since they had left…what happened? Ron mused that perhaps their jump had been cancelled. Before the jeep sped away and turned in front of the CP, he attempted to study them to make an appropriate guess as to what could have happened.

Lew appeared unfazed yet blank by the jeep's speed and overall attitude; Grace was in the back, her hands on her helmet, knees supporting her elbows. His eyes narrowed…she appeared distressed. Ron crossed the street, making it a priority to speak to her as soon as he could.

He walked briskly across the busy road, careful not to drop any of the silver he was carrying. Since they had landed in Europe, Ron had been nicking any spoils he could…he had plans for all of it: he had been shipping them back home to his parents' house to store. When he got home with Grace, he was going to sell it all and pay for two things: a diamond for her, and a house for them.

Stepping into the makeshift mailroom, Ron stood in the doorway waiting for two irritating privates to get out of his way.

"Oh, sorry sir", one of them quipped quickly, recognizing his face and pushing his comrade out of the way of the revered Captain.

Stalking forward, Ron placed the pile of silver trays, candlestick holders, and trinkets onto the counter. He dug into his front pocket, looking for his 'payment' for the mailroom's services and discretion.

"Morning, sir", Private Vest acknowledged.

"Morning", Ron replied. Retrieving the two packs of Camels, he set them on the counter, "you got a box all this stuff will fit into?"

"Yes sir, I believe I do". Vest sauntered forward, leering at the silver and smirked knowingly, "same destination?"

Ron nodded absently, his finger picking at a bit of wax stuck to one of the candlesticks, "yeah".

"Sir, I'll make sure it goes out first thing in the morning".

Eyeing Vest, he nodded again, "thank you, Private". Turing on his heel, Ron set out to the door, his intention to find Grace.

Vest continued, "boy, your parents are sure gonna have a collection by the time you get…" he trailed off, hearing the Captain's boot steps cease. Looking up, he was met with a calculating and intimidating stare. He swallowed and finished his sentence, "…home, sir".

Ron blinked, holding back the smirk on his lips…he was excited the men were talking openly about going home, he wanted to get home _with her _and begin his life…but he would never grow tired of the effect he had on everyone, _everyone but Grace_, that is. "Finder's keeper's", he said conspiratorially, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.

"Right here", Lew called out, the jeep screeched and stopped in front of CP.

"Thank you", Grace said to their driver as she leapt from the backseat without waiting for Lew to lend her a helping hand.

"You're welcome, Lieutenant", the driver responded.

Walking in, Grace immediately set her weapon and helmet down on a table inside. She began to unbuckle her jump harness as she heard Lew's footsteps walk in behind her.

"Grace", he began weakly.

She shook her head, putting her discarded field jacket on top of her harness and pushing off the suspenders on her shoulders, "not now", she whispered.

Scowling, he pushed past her and into the adjacent room, ripping off his harness and jacket as well.

Her lip trembled for the fiftieth time today. Shoving her emotional reaction down as deep as she could, she turned to follow Lew into the room. She heard a 'click' and soft music began to play followed by the familiar clinking of a glass and pouring liquid.

He was going to deal with this by drinking. Not a surprise.

If there was one habit she shared with Lew that tied them together and to their old over-privileged existence back home, it was a talent for drinking when things got too overwhelming.

Lewis had always abused the drink – Grace certainly saw that his habit had increased since they had been in Europe. While fighting in the war and having the same urge to turn to liquor, she instead had always managed to distract herself…there was _always_ something to be done in the paratroopers. But…these low moments, like now…slipping back into her old routine with him was inviting…a way of giving the universe the 'middle-finger' and saying 'fuck it all'.

He stood at a mirror above a bowl, water dripping from his face. He caught her reflection in the mirror and followed her movements as she crossed the room and picked up the short glass from the small table; putting it right to her lips, she downed the caramel contents in one go then picked up the green bottle with 'Vat69' on the side, filling the glass again.

There was no bite to the liquor…only the heady sweetness and the smoky finish. She topped off the glass again and looked to Lew's figure, who was now turned her way and glaring.

She brought the glass to her lips again and took a big sip, enjoying the warmth swirling around her empty stomach, her eyes remained on him; she wondered if she looked as shell-shocked as he did…she refused to look at herself in the mirror to find out.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he muttered.

Unfazed by his monotone question, she finished the glass and set it down on the table, "what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Making a mistake".

Ironically amused by his hypocrisy, she shrugged, "why don't you turn to the mirror and say that to the _both _of us".

"Jesus, Grace…" he began tensely.

"No", she shook her head and interrupted him, sliding the bottle and the glass down the table towards him, "spare me…I don't want to hear another fucked up version of an apology from you".

"Grace? Nix?" Winters' voice called out from the main doorway of CP.

"In here", Lew husked out, grabbing a towel and drying his face, avoiding Grace's stare.

Dick sauntered in casually, "you both…making a combat jump with the 17th while I'm in supply briefings all morning." His eyes swept from Lew to Grace, his knowing gaze sensing the tension in the room.

Grace nodded indifferently while Lewis busied himself with his jump boots, "yeah…lucky us".

Dick shrugged and continued good-naturedly, "you're probably the only two paratroopers in the entire 101st with three stars on your jump wings…for you, Grace, that'll be _four_."

"Not bad for someone who's never fired his weapon in combat, huh?" Lew said conversationally and Grace instantly felt her lungs deflate.

Why was that always something to be proud of? She had been in situations where she _had _to fire her weapon, she _had _to kill or _be killed_. That was war…that was reality. Why was it a distinction to have never been that kind of situation? Her hands were _covered and dripping _in the blood of others…and they always would be. She felt the burn of jealousy take the place of the warm whiskey in her stomach…her soul was sullied with death, and Lew did not hold that burden.

Clenching her jaw, Grace looked to Lew…who was staring right back, his dark eyes sparking. _He fucking knew_…he knew, and he had just used that over her to get under her skin. _Fucking bastard_.

Unaware of their silent communication, Dick's eyebrows went up, "really? Really…you've never…"

"Nope", Lew interrupted him, breaking eye contact with Grace.

"Huh…not even with all the action we've seen?" Dick's stare turned concerned as he looked to Grace, who remained silent.

"Not a round", Lew finished, standing up and walking to the bottle of Vat, ignoring the sickness he felt at insulting Grace and her hidden insecurity.

Winters leaned up against a dresser in the room and took a moment to observe his two officers. He had felt tension in the room when he walked in…Grace hadn't spoken and Lew had been short and closed off. "So…how'd it go this morning…the jump?"

The music switched off and Grace looked up to Dick's eyes on her, his hand on the wireless radio. The only sound in the room was Lew pouring the rest of Vat's contents into his glass.

"It was great, fantastic", Lew deadpanned.

"Jesus", Grace breathed, tired of his recklessness. "We went down, miles away from the DZ…the plane blew up. I made it out…" she let the silence sink into Lew, letting him fill in the blanks of what she wasn't going to tell Dick, "so did he."

She looked to Dick who nodded at her, his eyes serious, "the rest of the boys?"

"They blew up over Germany somewhere…boom", Lew answered. Grace's heart lurched at his response; she bit her lip hard to prevent it from trembling again.

Appraising his friends' fragile mentality, Dick offered his humble condolences, "yeah…yeah, I'm sorry…"

"About what?" Lew asked, his tone confused. Dick gestured to them, shrugging, and Lew nodded, "oh yeah, yeah _the boys_, it's terrible." Lew smirked humorlessly and brought his glass up to his mouth, "oh well, wasn't me". Grace kept her gaze steady on Lewis, her breathing slowing and measured. Likewise, Dick remained still. Unaffected by their reactions to his casual dismissal, Lew downed his Vat and inspected the now-empty bottle on the table, "the real tragedy of it is that their C.O. is dead…guess who gets to write all the letters home". With that, he stalked out of the room, his intention obvious, to look for more booze. "God, what a nightmare", he muttered, chucking the empty bottle into a nearby bin, leaving Grace and Dick alone.

The silence stretched for a minute before Dick stood up and walked over to Grace, who straightened up as he looked her over. "You alright?" he whispered.

Grace sighed slowly, feeling like she had been punched in the gut. She looked to Dick, into those ice-blue eyes of his and spoke in a soft voice, "he tried to push me out…he wasn't hooked in…just like Meehan". Swallowing a wave of nausea, she took a breath and shook her head, "I had to fight back against him and drag him out the door with me…we were _lucky_….we got into one hell of an argument after we landed".

His gaze steadied her as he nodded and grasped her hand, "you did the right thing, Gracie." He nodded toward the empty doorway where Lew had left, "I have news to tell him…it isn't good". Grace nodded and followed Dick into a larger dining room. There were discarded bottles of liquor everywhere; Lew was only interested in the familiar shape and green glass of Vat. "I got a visit from Colonel Sink this morning", Dick started, walking around the table. Lew grunted in response, pouring himself another glass; Grace stood at the doorway, silent.

"And how is the good Colonel?" Lew mocked.

"Concerned", Dick fired back. He shook his head at the table as Lew took a seat in a high-backed chair. "Still drinking nothing but the 'Vat69', huh?" his voice was troubled with an edge of condescension.

Lew held up his glass in a toast, his eyes flickering to Grace, "only the best for Mrs. Nixon's baby boy".

"Is that a problem up at regiment?" Dick asked.

Lew frowned, "what…this?" he gestured to his glass, "is that what he said?" Thumbing his glass, Lew shrugged, "no…I just don't like it up there".

"Good", Dick began, "so you'll be happy to hear that Sink is transferring you back down to Battalion S3". Grace sighed silently, trying to gauge Lew's reaction to this news.

There was no reaction from him…apart from a sigh, "I don't want to have to write to all those kids' parents".

"I'll take that on, Lewis…I'll do it", Grace affirmed, growing impatient.

"That's not the point", Lew countered, "what the hell are you supposed to write to them?"

"Did you hear what I said, Nix? You've been demoted", Winters clarified.

Lew nodded, "demoted, yeah I got it…Grace, how do even tell them their kids never even made it out of the Goddamn plane".

Dick narrowed his eyes at him while Grace stepped forward from the door, speaking in an even tone, "you tell them what you _always _tell them…their sons died as heroes".

Lewis fixed them both with a hard and challenging stare, "you really still believe that?"

"Yeah…yeah, I do", she asserted, thinking of the young men's eager and excited faces…those on the plane with them that morning…and all the men she had known previous who wouldn't be going home. _Skip, Penkala, Hoobler, Meehan, Julian, Dukeman, Colson, Stefano, Jackson…_

"Don't you?" Winters confronted.

"Captain Nixon?" A battalion runner came into the room then, an envelope in his hand.

Lew stood up, "what is it?"

The runner came forward, "urgent letter for you, sir…it came day the before yesterday, but you had gone before it could get to you".

Lew grunted his dismissal as he tore open the letter and began to read it. He expression grew manic and Grace held her breath. "Jesus Christ…the dog?" he breathed.

"Lew?" she whispered, concerned.

Looking up, as if remembering he wasn't in the room alone, he refolded the paper sloppily, "Kathy's divorcing me", he announced, his eyes tight on Grace.

"I'm sorry", Dick offered after a beat.

Lew shoved the letter into his pocket, reaching for the bottle of Vat, "she's taking everything…she's taking the house…she's taking the kid…" he kept his gaze on Grace as he shook his head, "…she's taking the dog!?" His voice raising, he gestured with the empty bottle, "it's not even _her_ dog! It's MY dog! She's taking MY DOG!" he screamed, hurling the bottle across the room where it shattered against the opposite wall.

Stunned, Grace kept still and kept her eyes on Lew's heaving body.

After everything that happened this morning, after witnessing Lew's rant and rage, his dead expression never breaking and now his overwhelming confusion and hurt…Grace was being pulled in two different ways.

She longed to run to him, to his arms, and hug him until he cried…in the back of her mind, she had always known this would happen between Lew and Kathy. Jesus…to get that kind of news on a day like this? Their argument this morning jogged her memory to another such argument years ago after Lew became engaged…an argument between her and Chuck. She had been devastated that Lew had asked Kathy to marry him…Chuck knew Grace had held a torch for their childhood friend after all those years. He had confronted her about it, her emotions broke through and she divulged her secret. Chuck never told Lewis…he also never told him that Grace predicted that Kathy would eventually leave him.

Grace was a dynamically different woman now.

As much as she wanted to console him, she wanted to get away from him…away from his negativity and carelessness; he's a big boy and should have seen this coming.

Silently walking through the doorway, she quickly swiped an unguarded bottle nearest to the door and walked out of the room.

If Lew hadn't married Kathy…what would have happened? Did he ever have feelings for her? Would she have ended up with him? Would she have ever gone to war…became a paratrooper…met her men…met Ron? Her heart sped up…what she felt towards Ron could move mountains…it was so different from what she felt as a girl for Lew. As much as her past was gone, as much as it was in shambles…the leftover pieces still were surfacing after all this time.

It was time she buried the hatchet with Lewis…especially after what transpired this morning between them. They needed to move past this hurdle.

Making up her mind clear up her past later this evening after he had had time to calm down, Grace gave into the urge to blur her reality now.

Ready to lock herself away in whatever room she could find, she rounded a corner in the main foyer and was intercepted by a different man from battalion.

"Lieutenant Grant?"

Sighing at the horrible timing, she nodded, "yes?"

He thrust a paper to her, "Acknowledgement of Arrival papers from the 17th…you'll need to sign them along with Captain Nixon".

Her eyes narrowing at the paper in front of her nose, she snatched it out of the air, "I'll get it to the mailroom later".

She made to leave when the irritating runner stepped in her path, cutting her off, "I could just wait for you both to sign it and take it myself now".

Grace glared at him – the last thing she wanted to do was go and speak to Lewis now…and if this runner wanted to live, he shouldn't go near Lew either. "You got a cigarette?" she asked gruffly.

"Uh…yeah…I mean, yes, I do", he stuttered, fumbling then producing and unopened pack of Lucky's.

Before he could pry them open, Grace simply swiped the entire pack from his hand and nodded, "The paper will get to the mailroom without you….Dismissed". Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked into a large library across the foyer and swiftly closed the large wooden double doors behind her, welcoming the blessed silence.

The room was lined with deep, rich, wooden walls; tapestries and expensive fabric draped the walls. A large, round table was in the center of the room, an impressive fireplace was on the opposite wall beside it.

Turning to the window, she spotted a small desk…walking to it, she happily discovered a pen. She quickly signed her name and forged Lew's signature on the document.

Shoving the neatly folded paper into her shirt pocket, Grace sighed and took in the town outside. There were many Paratroopers and German civilians milling around…more of the former. She wondered what her men were doing…she hadn't seen Tab and George in what felt like forever. Smirking humorlessly, she knew this was decent-looking fraternizing territory…so it was anyone's guess as to where her men were if they weren't assigned to a post.

In the sea of olive drab, supply trucks, and jeeps, her eyes latched onto him; Ron was walking with Winters across the street. His posture was rigid, his mouth closed…Dick walked fluidly beside him, no doubt informing him of the jump this morning and why Easy had one of its Lieutenant's back earlier than anticipated.

Her eyes stung, tears forming, and her shoulders began to shake at the sight of him.

Breathing hard through the intense urge to yell his name out, she turned away from the window and went deliberately to the bottle on the table.

She wanted a hug…she wanted a hug, and she wanted to erase the tense words she exchanged with Lew. Her stomach dropped – she had Ron…someone to love her and look after her intimately following the horror of her morning. Lew had no one…he had just received a letter from his wife saying she was _leaving _him and taking everything. She should be comforting him…he was her brother. He probably would not want to see her…_fuck, she was a coward_.

Ignoring the stream of tears continuing down her face, Grace squinted to read the label through her blurry vision: Cognac. _Whatever…liquor is liquor_. She uncorked it and tossed the cap into the fireplace, tipping the bottle to her lips and forgoing the clean glasses sitting nearby.

Oooooooo

Forty minutes and half a bottle of cognac later, Grace was feeling sufficiently blanketed from her emotions. A smoking cigarette dangling off her lips, she decided it best to emerge from her self-imposed seclusion before someone stumbled upon her.

Tossing one more swig back, she stood up from her chair and walked to the fireplace, hiding her bottle behind the large clock on the mantle.

Behind the mantle was a large mirror…standing right there, Grace couldn't help but peer at her reflection.

Her eyes were slightly bloodshot and the tip of her nose was pink, as were her cheeks. The green in her eyes stood out today…they were large and watery…she looked like a kid. A drunk, smoking, kid.

Flicking her cigarette into the fireplace, she shoved her hands in her pockets, turned on her heel, and walked out of the room – her boot kicking the doors open. Before exiting, she spotted Lew's aviator sunglasses on the front table…impulsively grabbing them, she put them on and then left.

Outside CP, the activity didn't stop; trucks and jeeps were moving everywhere…the late afternoon sun bathed everything in a golden hue. Grace was grateful for the last-minute find of the sunglasses.

"Gracie-bird, where have you been all my life?"

A genuine smile spread across her features as she turned to the familiar voice, "Tab", she sighed as he grinned ear to ear and skipped to her side, throwing his arms around her.

"How the hell are you, girl?"

He tightened his hold on her as she laughed, relieved for a friendly face. "I'm alright…" she compromised to herself, "what's goin' on?"

"Nixon's leading current events over in the square", he gestured to her glasses; "those are some ritzy sunglasses you got there".

"Thanks, they're Nixon's", she said and Tab laughed, "hopefully he won't notice that I ganked them."

"I heard you jumped today…" he started.

"Yeah…me and Lew", she informed, uncommitted.

His candy-brown eyes held her gaze and he nodded, "yeah…I heard…we heard what happened". Grace nodded, disbelieving how fast news traveled in the paratroopers. Tab didn't want her to be uncomfortable; the boys had heard from a runner the day before that Nixon and Grace went on a jump…they learned today that the plane they were on went down and that's why they were back. Tab pulled two cigarettes out and lit them both, handing one to Grace, "the boys were glad to hear you guys made it back to us okay".

"Thanks Tab", she said sincerely. "You want an escort to Lew's current events?"

He laughed and nodded, "I thought you'd never ask, doll".

**I thought about it, but it's best to stop here…considering what's on the way.**

**Stay tuned….MUCH more to come.**

**As always, tell me what you think.**

**xoxo**


	42. Chapter 42

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Hey everybody – I just wanted you all to know how much I appreciate your thoughts and the time you take to leave them with me. THANK YOU!**

Run…she wanted to run away…run away from the growing guilt at her actions and thoughts.

She wanted to apologize.

She wanted to yell some more.

She felt terrible…both her heart and her head were on fire.

She was an asshole.

She was so, horribly sorry.

Behind the dark lenses of Lew's sunglasses, she kept her gaze on him. He was being so brave, leading the current events lecture…his voice never broke, he even smiled…the boys would never know what he was really going through him right at this moment.

"I'm sure you'll all be happy to know 'Oklahoma' is playing on Broadway", he mused, thumbing through his clipboard.

The men grumbled amusedly and Tab nudged Grace as George called out, "hey!...Ohhhhhk-lahoma…" the rest of the men began to sing with him, "…where the wind comes sweeping down the plain…where the wavin' wheat can sure smell sweet…when the wind comes…" George cut everyone off, leaving poor O'Keefe to finish the chorus.

"Right behind the rain!"

"O'Keefe, you sitting on your bayonet there?" Christianson ribbed. Grace smiled, seeing the men poke one another and laugh.

"He should leave the singing to Luz", Tab muttered beside her.

Lew groaned, his gaze on the papers in front of them, "ah…Rita Hayworth's getting married".

The men followed, George once again speaking up, "oh, Rita, say it isn't true".

Lieb had spotted Tab and Grace standing in the back of the group and he nodded in their direction, speaking up, "hey - who needs Rita Hayworth when you've got Grace Grant?" Grace felt her cheeks burn at the men turning around to look at her, laugh and agree, their whistles filling the air

"I bet Rita doesn't know her way around a weapon, huh boys?" Moore quipped, followed by more giggles. Grace rolled her eyes behind her glasses…you can be a respected Lieutenant all you want, but if you're a girl, these boys will give you hell.

"Cheers to that", Johnny agreed.

Lew continued, "War Time News…resistance is crumbling, looks like there may be a break-out…" the men cheered to that, "..apparently the Krauts forgot to blow up one of their bridges before going back over the Rhine." He looked up and nodded at Grace, "looks like the boys in the 17th did alright after all". His lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile as he recognized his glasses on her face.

"Ah forget it…we'd be in Berlin by now if it was us instead of them, huh boys?" George asserted.

"That's right", the men agreed, as Christianson slapped George on the shoulder.

Tab turned to her, "it's my turn with Shifty on guard duty…I'll catch you later, Gracie".

She nodded to him, "talk to you later, buddy".

As she watched him walk away, her eyes following him through the throngs of gathered paratroopers, she caught sight of Ron.

He was standing near a parked supply truck, half in the shadow and half in the waning evening sun. He had showered and shaved, his hair and clothes were neat apart from the small turn-up in the back of his collar. She had the sudden impulse to mess up his combed hair. His eyes were on hers and she didn't know if he was being indiscreet because she had glasses on…or if he didn't care…she would put money on the second.

His gaze was serious…penetrating yet yielding and soft – an interesting combination. Keeping her eyes on him, she slipped off the aviators and dropped them into her front pocket. His face flickered to a shade of need once her eyes met his without the shield of sunglasses.

Abruptly, even surrounded by other troopers, civilians, jeeps, and trucks, Grace felt exposed to him.

He always had the power to reduce her to a pile of over-sensitive nerves…even with just a look.

She hadn't properly seen him since their morning in Hagenau…_Jesus, that could have been the last time she was with him_.

Suddenly she felt there was too much space between them. Grace slowly began walking to her right, where CP was…Ron began doing the same, mirroring her actions, his eyes on her and becoming desperate.

She became conscious of her sporadic breathing once she made it to the front of CP. Ron met her there just in time, his jaw clenching. Without speaking, he took hold of her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and walked into the building, pulling her behind him.

Ascending the stair well quickly, Grace took the steps by two to keep up with him…the electricity between their joined hands was sparking…and she heard his breath too. They were certainly _not _out of breath from running up stairs.

He turned to the left as they hit the second floor, strode down the hallway, and opened the door at the end of the long corridor of rooms.

Grace barely had a second to _see _the bedroom before he shut the door, gently grabbed her hips and pushed her against the closed door, his warm body pressing against hers…his lips then descended onto hers with a hungry urgency.

Her entire day had been one long parade of horrors, followed by the habit to hide and snuff out every feeling that followed as a result. When Ron's coaxing mouth captured hers, her mind stopped and her world exploded back into color.

Gasping, she wound her arms around his neck and plunged her fingers into his tidy hair…mindlessly surrendering herself to this long, lingering kiss.

Ron had searched for her discreetly ever since he spotted her in the jeep earlier…his pursuit for her became increasingly obvious once Winters had informed him of the plane malfunction, what had happened, and why she and Lew were back so soon.

He couldn't believe her luck…two planes to go down out of four combat jumps…and she's walked away from them all. He couldn't believe _his _luck…she was here in _his _arms.

His fingers grasped her waist, hips, and backside, attempting to feel as much of her as he possibly could, as he breathed into their embrace, kissing her deeply. Her lips were eager and tasted like cognac…he groaned at the feeling of her nails lightly raking down his neck.

His deep baritone sigh encouraged her so she took the opportunity to tenderly take his bottom lip between her teeth, her fingers fisting in his hair. At her sudden and bold actions, Ron moaned and picked her up, his hands under her bottom. Acting on instinct, Grace hooked her legs around his waist, holding herself up as he pressed their bodies harder against the door.

Provocatively, Ron gently ground his hips into Grace, eliciting a soft gasp. She hung onto his neck as her lips moved with his slowly, intensely…he smelled like shaving cream.

His face moved to her neck as he placed a sensual kiss to her jaw, "if the entire 101st wasn't right outside, I'd take you right here", he rumbled erotically into her ear.

Speechless at first, her lips parted as she caught her breath, she closed her eyes to the soft sensation of Ron kissing her neck. "God help me…" she began in a pant, her body throbbing. Ron's soft laughter tickled her ear and she smiled, "it's better that you don't…" she purred in his ear, "otherwise I would be _screaming_ your name so loud…that Eisenhower will know who you are", she finished with a soft kiss to his strong jaw.

"Oh…" he wheezed back. Wanting to string a sentence of curses together at her explicit remark, Ron held his tongue and caught his breath. Releasing her, he reveled in the sensation of her body sliding down his, her feet coming to rest between his stance. "Sweetheart", he moaned breathily, "…the things you do to me". He leaned back and searched her eyes, stroking her face, having a hard time beginning to express in words how happy he was that she was safe. He decided it best to go with simplicity…he had just shown her with his body, "you're back", he whispered it as a prayer.

Her breath unexpectedly hitching in her throat, all she could do was nod. "I'm here", she whispered, her voice breaking, lip trembling, and a couple tears escaping.

His heart broke at her sudden vulnerability and he kissed her cheeks, gathering her tears with his lips. "You're here…you're here with me". Pulling her close again to his chest, his arms circled her body and she pressed her cheek to his heart. Her shoulders began to shake silently and Ron squeezed his eyes shut, letting her cry. "I love you", he sighed intimately.

"I love _you_", she exhaled quietly, hiccupping once.

"Welsh and Lip want to play poker tonight…Harry took one look at that library downstairs and demanded we play like proper gentlemen", he murmured into her hair after a minute of their soft breathing. Silently congratulating himself as she chuckled beneath him, he continued, "care to take part?"

"I'll allow you _gentlemen_ to play without me", she began, "but I will happily be a spectator". After another moment of companionable silence, Grace acquiesced to the urging voice in her head and spoke in a hushed voice, "I shouldn't have gone…I shouldn't have left the men…I shouldn't have been so reckless".

Ron shook his head, knowing this was coming, "you don't need to explain yourself to me". He silently studied her stressed face…her fair skin had more freckles splashed across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, evidence she had spend more time in the sun than usual. "The men were fine, Lip was in charge". She nodded solemnly as his gaze lingered on her face; he knew she was more concerned with _his _reaction to their failed jump. "And I fell in love with you because you're reckless. Hell, not _reckless_…you're brave. Was I bothered when Winters told me why you and Nixon were back early – yes…but…", he shrugged, momentarily at a loss for accurate words, "…I fell in love with _you_." His voice dropped to a whisper, "the woman who ran to a Kraut tank with a bazooka…who led Germans away from our position in Bastogne…who's jumped out of _four_ combat planes". He leaned back, grabbed her hands, and kissed her knuckles, "the woman who has survived and led her men".

Grace was astounded and touched by his tender confession; how long had she worried he wanted a woman who was her opposite? "Winters told you everything?"

"Define everything", he baited.

"When the plane went down and the props exploded, no one was hooked in. Lew grabbed my pack and hooked me in…then tried to throw me out". Ron nodded, understanding now why she was _so_ bothered; the event paralleled her experience with Meehan almost perfectly. "I don't know how I managed to fight against him, but I did and hooked him in…then we got out". She shook her head, pulling away from Ron and slowly pacing in front of him, "it's fucking lucky", she began in a low voice, "simple _luck_ that we were both sitting near the door". She took a breath, "we screamed the hell out of each other once we got to the ground".

Grace and Nixon were close…like siblings, Ron could only imagine what horrible things they had said to one another. "Are you alright?" he murmured, growing concerned.

"Like hell I was gonna just leave him up there…he told me I should have…the nerve of him". Her hands on her hips, her accent grew from frustration going through the entire day in her head, "…didn't say a _word_ the entire drive back here…not that I said anything either, but _Jesus_…he was the one tellin' me to shut up".

"Come again?" Ron questioned, not liking that detail.

She continued, not hearing him, "then once we get here, he goes straight for the whiskey…typical", she chuckled humorlessly, "when Dick came in, Lew acted like an ass…_I_ told Dick what happened because Lew didn't…_I_ said I would write the letters to the parents because Lew didn't want to". She shrugged indignantly, "'_haven't shot a round the entire war'_…go hifreann leat".

He frowned, "he's never fired his weapon?"

"Nope…not a round", she replied, "then…fate and karma or whatever decides to kick him while we're all down…and he gets a letter from his wife, Kathy…she's leaving him…taking everything". Grace took a breath and turned to Ron fully, "and now I feel like an asshole…I just walked away. I need to say something to him. I mean…Jesus…to find out like _that_ on a day like _this_".

His deep voice followed hers after a moment of silence, his tone colored with tender caution, "is tu mo ghra".

Snapped out of her trance at his soft voice and she smiled, "I forgot that you know some Gaelic…I love you too". She sighed at his handsome face; admiring his skin gleaming from the twilight glow cast on him from the deep storm clouds now outside the widow. "I'm glad to be back…_thankful_ to be back with you".

Ron nodded, "that makes two of us, love".

"Tapadh leat…_thank you_", she whispered.

"For what?"

"Everything…for listening to all this, for putting up with…with me".

"Believe me when I say I do not _put up_ with you", he urged.

"You know what I mean".

"I do". He smiled darkly, "you're the one who puts up with _me_".

"Be serious", she chuckled.

He nodded, "I'm as serious as a heart attack".

She shook her head, smirking, "you're amazing".

"Am I?...go on…", he trailed off, grinning.

Grace laughed, nodding, "you're so…understanding".

"You sound surprised", he sounded amusedly offended.

"No…but you're aware of your…reputation".

"I am", he nodded, "…and I have one for a reason", he added softly, knowing he would let his 'reputation' rear its ugly head should anything happen to Grace.

She placed her palm on his heart, stepping closer to him, and smiled softly, "and I get to see this part of you…I'm honored…and you're mine".

Ron sighed softly, his smile widening, "and you are _mine_", his tone taking on a protective tinge.

Outside, rain began to pitter-patter against the window; thunder began to roll toward them softly in the distance.

Ron watched Grace smile at him and walk to the window and look out. He put on an honest but brave face for her. He knew what had happened, Winters had told him…but Grace needed to vent and tell him herself.

Two survived plane explosions…what were the odds?

He could safely assume that Grace had the intention to speak to Nixon to settle their differences later. It was necessary, but it unsettled him.

Nixon was basically the last living family member as far as Grace was concerned…she'd known him her whole life. Before Ron confessed his feelings to her in Rechamps, Nixon had been the immediate man there to keep an eye on her…sure, the entire company of Toccoa men had been there for her before Ron could take on the job himself…but with _Nixon_, things had always felt different. _Competitive_.

Ron was a man…he knew the signs of a man with feelings for a woman…and since D-Day, he saw those signs in Nixon.

Ron did not feel threatened, that was not in his nature, and it was certainly not his place to tell her…but he _was_ concerned for Grace. It was obvious to him that she was unaware… and he wondered when she would realize the truth.

Oooooooooo

Ron held the door to the library open for Grace as they walked through. The rest of the large building felt drafty from the spring rainstorm raging outside but the library was warm.

Harry smirked at them from beside the fireplace, he was feeding blocks of wood into it, "hey guys", he greeted. He turned to Lip, "thank god you remembered to bring this firewood in, Lip, otherwise we'd be shit outta luck".

Lip spoke from his seat at the large table in the room, a steaming teacup next to his hand, "it was a lucky break, Harry." He turned to Grace and Ron as they walked in, "evening Captain, Lieutenant".

Lewis walked in then and Grace's eyes followed him; he walked to his seat at the table, a bottle of Vat and a filled glass in his hand. With his entrance, Grace felt tension build in Ron's posture behind her.

"Evening", Ron answered, his hand coming to rest on the small of Grace's back unconsciously.

"You care for something to drink?" Harry asked, gesturing to their teacups on the table.

"Are you having tea?" Grace inquired, unable to hide the smirk in her voice.

"Adult tea", Harry winked, "we threw booze in it".

"Classy", she smiled. "I'll have one…Ron?"

Beside her, Ron nodded and made his way over to the head of the table beside the fireplace, his gaze studying Lew's lazy posture. "You want to sit down?" he asked Grace.

"You go ahead, I'm not playing anyway", she said, making her way over the fireplace. Her eyes searched for her stow-away bottle of cognac behind the clock…it was still there from earlier, untouched.

Lew topped off his glass then looked around the table, "the President's dead", he announced.

Grace looked up at once, finding Ron looking back at her sadly. "You're shitting me", Lip uttered.

"He'd been really sick recently", Grace said.

Lew nodded his head, "I just got the news before I came here. Truman was sworn into office today".

"Jesus", Harry whispered.

"You're telling me…what a fuckin' day", Lew answered without missing a beat.

Harry sat opposite Lew at the table, observing his and Grace's posture. The rumor mill always worked faster in the paratroopers, everyone knew about Lew's 'Dear John' letter from his wife…his morose attitude, and drinking was surely to blame for that. Grace, on the other hand, looked subdued but well. Harry took a gamble and spoke, "so you two had quite the morning".

Lip nodded, "yeah, what the hell happened up there? When we heard you were gone for a jump on Germany, we were all jealous…then you guys showed up a couple hours later".

Grace's stomach tightened at their wondering faces. Before she could speak, Lew interrupted her, laughing humorlessly. Tipping his filled glass to his lips, he shook his head, "jealous, huh? Well be happy you weren't on for this one, boys".

Seeing the men gaze wearily at Lewis, Grace took the stolen moment to take a swift swig of the cognac from earlier. "Same difference", Harry began, "that makes three combat jumps for you, Lew…and _four_ for our very own little Gracie." His voice directed to Grace and she gently pushed the bottle back behind the clock. From his place at the table, Ron frowned, wondering what she was doing so near to the fireplace. "How many paratroopers can say that?"

"My guess would be none", Lip offered, "pretty neat distinction". Lip figured what the two of them had gone through that morning had not been easy and he could feel the tension in the air lingering still.

"Dick said the same damn thing", Lew scoffed, "but it doesn't matter", he finished under his breath, tossing his drink back.

Turning to them, Grace locked eyes with Ron briefly before looking to Harry and Lip and nodding, "this morning was tough…but we're here…and you're right, if it's anything, it is a distinction".

"If by _distinction_ you mean 'lucky to be alive'", Lew muttered.

Ron sat up straight in his chair, his gaze on Lewis; Harry and Lip exchanged a knowing glance. "We all signed up to jump out of planes, Lew", Grace started, her fingers stroking the hidden cognac bottle, "to me, that's synonymous with '_lucky to be alive_'".

"Didn't mean to stir the pot here…" Harry offered.

Lew barked a laugh while Grace glared at his back. "It's fine", she insisted.

Lew shrugged, "you know how it works…our plane went down, we lived…luck of the draw, you know? It's just the way it is".

"Nixon", Ron hissed under his breath.

"It _is _just the way it is", Grace agreed, then gestured to Harry, "I thought you lot were gonna play poker here, Welshie….not initiate a group therapy session", she joked.

"Yeah, I got ya, Angel", he smirked thankfully at her, dolling out cards to Lip, Nix, himself, and Ron. Grace smiled back, pulling the bottle out behind the clock again and turning to the window, taking another swig before slipping it back.

Ooooooooo

The officers were well into the poker game – the table was littered with crumpled dollar bills and packets of cigarettes, the room slightly hazy with smoke. Bottles of beer decorated the table, having taken the place of the 'tea' a while ago. Grace sat in a chair near the fireplace, poker in hand, tending to the fire. Her bottle of cognac was empty now, pushed back behind the clock.

Harry, Lip, and Ron held up the talk around the table, with Grace chiming in every now and then. Lew had been miserable company…hence her emptying the cognac bottle. Her head was alight with the familiar buzz of alcohol, attempting to answer every one of his drinks with a defiant swig of her own. She wondered idly how much liquor it would take to down Lewis Nixon. The man was infamous for his intense need for his vices.

The entire room had a drunken feel to it; the atmosphere was lazy yet unsatisfied; Lew had barely said a word the entire time.

"Two bucks", Ron muttered, tossing two bills into the center of the table.

"Nix?" Lip prompted.

Grace watched as Lew emptied the last drops of Vat from the bottle into his glass. She knew what was coming next when his shoulders slumped and his shifted, getting up from his chair, "no…I'm out".

Ron glared at him and then looked over to Grace was staring at Nixon's retreating back wearily. Lip threw two bills to the center, "alright…well, I'll call your two".

"I got nothin', I'm out", Harry shook his head.

"Flip 'em", Ron directed.

Lip shook his head as Ron smirked, "you win this hand". Ron leaned forward, collecting the pot as Lip gathered up the cards.

Taking a deep drag and exhaling audibly, Harry shrugged, "I can't believe we're not gonna drop into Berlin".

"No shit", Ron agreed.

"Ike's gonna let the Ruskies have it", Harry lamented, tilting his head back to watch the smoke swirl up into the air.

"Ruskies", Ron chuckled, amused at the nickname. From the other room, Grace heard Lew rummaging through something noisily…no doubt to procure more booze. She heard his footsteps coming back as Ron spoke again, his voice gravely from the alcohol, "I'll tell you something, Welsh, this war's not about fighting anymore, it's about who gets what". Grace smirked to herself thinking, _'says the man who would loot a bakery if the shop-keep left for five minutes'_.

Lewis stalked back into the room, pulling on his field jacket, "go ahead and deal me out of the next hand", he uttered to Lip.

Ron sighed and looked over to Grace while Harry and Lip watched Lew walk out. "What about your money?" Ron called after him to no response.

"Are we waiting on him again?" Harry asked.

"Yep", Lip nodded, rolling his eyes.

Grace could see it now…Lew wandering out into town, drunk, trying to locate his fucking precious Vat69. _Ridiculous_. On top of all this, it was raining buckets outside. Lew had not said one thing to her since their words earlier that day. Her jaw set and her posture straightening with her sharpened anger, Grace stood up and walked around the table, determined to go after him to get him into his bed…_he should be sleeping it off, not finding more to drink_.

She could feel Harry, Lip, and Ron's eyes on her as she followed after Lewis.

"You want to play in his place, Angel?" Lip suggested.

"I'm following him and taking him to his room", she answered, realizing she didn't have her field jacket then deciding she didn't care, "he's gonna do something stupid and someone has to look after him".

"Let him…you've been looking after him his whole life", Ron quipped.

"You're not talking me out of this", Grace insisted, walking out of the room.

"You don't have your jacket…it's raining", she heard Ron urge.

"Don't care", she hollered back.

From inside the library, Harry eyed Ron cautiously with ill-concealed amusement as Ron aggressively lit a cigarette then stood up from the table. "What?" Ron dared him after a moment.

Harry shifted in his seat, unaccustomed to the Captain's challenging stare. "Nothing…" he started, then gestured to the door, "…she's a pistol…that's all".

Ron walked over to the fireplace where she had been sitting. He looked to the mantle and spotted something behind the clock…an empty cognac bottle. Turning his gaze back on Welsh, Ron smirked darkly, "the men don't call her _Sparkette_ for nothing".

Outside, the dusty cobblestone streets had turned slick with all the rain. It was coming down in sheets…the roads were deserted and it was hard to determine which direction Lew had gone…she couldn't hear anything apart from the rain and trucks in the distance.

She walked forward, into the rain, knowing if he was looking for more booze, he would most likely be searching the stores nearby and hoping to get lucky. Making her way to the right, her BDU shirt began to soak through and cling to her. She pushed a hand through her wet hair, pushing it out of her face. The cold rain had little sobering power as she trudged up the street, her eyes blinking water out of them and darting for Lew's figure.

CRASH!

The sharp sound of breaking glass pierced the air and Grace squinted, seeing a tin Army barrel strewn on the street, glass surrounding it.

A dog began to bark and a light from the nearby building flicked on from the second story.

An old man leaned out and began yelling in German.

"God damn Kraut stores", Lew's voice called out.

She heard his boots crunch on glass as she walked to the storefront, "Lewis". He stopped, took one look at her, and then kept walking. She followed him silently; he was just as soaked as she was.

Two jeeps of men back from a routine patrol pulled up. They all were equipped for the weather, wearing rain ponchos. Jumping out of the jeep, they saluted to Lew and Grace, "Captain Nixon…Lieutenant Grant…" Lew and Grace both distractedly saluted them back.

After they were out of earshot, Grace called to Lew, "you'll find Hitler hiding in one of these stores before you'd find any Vat". He didn't respond and she had to jog to keep up with him, "let's go back to CP, I'll get you back to your room". Silence. Huffing, Grace bit back a frustrated and drunken sob as she kept pace with him. They walked for a few more minutes before her teeth started to chatter.

"You're going to get a cold", he muttered.

"Come with me back to CP", she requested calmly.

"No", he shrugged.

"Lewis!" she stopped walking.

He didn't stop, "I said no".

She sighed, her throat tight, "I'm sorry". Lew heard her tired emotion through her voice and turned to her. If he knew better, he'd say she was crying, but he couldn't tell with all the drops of water running down her face. "I'm so sorry, Lew."

"For what?"

"All of it…for Kathy." Lew watched as she wiped her nose with her sleeve. "It's fucking horrible".

He bit back a scoff, not caring about Kathy or the letter, or anything. "I don't care about that".

"What?"

"You don't get it…you don't understand", he tried to placate her, not wishing to divulge and get into it all.

Her face was earnest as she peered at him, "explain it to me then".

He shook his head, his heart lurching, "you should just walk away".

"I'm not going anywhere".

_She was so much like Chuck, it was unbelievable_. "Let's get you back to CP…I can't have Speirs beating me up because you get sick".

Grace remained quiet, walking next to him and complying with him silently. She knew something was eating at him…and she would make him tell her whether he liked it or not.

Minutes later, they made it back to CP. The coast was clear of officers.

"We're going this way", she demanded, walking to where his room was located, on the other wing of the large building.

"Let me take you back…" he began.

"Nope", she interrupted him, "I'm putting _you _to bed, and then I can go back myself..." she turned to him, her posture and expression uncompromising, "got it?"

Not willing to put up a fight, Lew nodded and followed Grace up the outside stairs to his room. Once she reached the door, she held out her hand and Lew wordlessly gave her the key. She unlocked it swiftly and handed it back, ushering him inside. Switching on the light, he pushed off his sopping jacket, hanging it on the edge of a chair.

"I'm inside", he said, "now you can go straight to your room".

She shook her head, "what don't I understand".

Lew knew she wouldn't let it go…he knew it would eventually come to this. "I don't know what to say."

She shrugged, "just…spit it out…it doesn't need to be eloquent. I wanted to apologize for everything…I _am_ apologizing…but you said you didn't care about what happened".

"I don't", he said truthfully.

"Why?"

"Jesus", he chuckled humorlessly, "I'm not pissed about what happened, alright? I'm pissed about something else…I'm pissed at myself…I should've fucking _known_…", he began talking more to himself, not knowing where to begin with her. "All this fucking time…I should have known…and now it's gone." He turned to her, "I had a chance for something…I guess you would call it a chance…but I know now that it was never meant to be…and now with Kathy's fucking letter, I'm…alone…and I'm an idiot". He knew he was being vague and not making sense but he was so reluctant to tell her. She belonged to Speirs…they were _made_ for each other…he was bound for someone else, he knew that…but he wanted to be selfish in this moment.

"You have to be more explicit with me, Lew", her eyes held tears in them, he could see she was worried about him. _She was always looking out for him and Chuck…all these years_. "You're not an idiot", she whispered.

"I am.." he began…then shook his head, _Fuck it_, he thought, "I love you, Gracie, I always have".

"…I know…"

"No…" he shook his head, his voice hinting to what he really meant, "…I always have…"

He held his breath, knowing they were not meant for one another, but knowing he had to get it off his chest. Seeing realization flood her hazel eyes, he nodded as she blinked, "…Lewis", she breathed.

"You're not mine, I know you're not…but I have to tell you".

"Why…" she faltered in a soft voice, "…why tell me?"

He shrugged, walking towards her, "I knew I made a mistake the day I married Kathy…and I know we're not meant for each other, but I…I wish we were", he confessed, "…and I never got to tell you before you went away with Chuck and your Dad…"

Grace felt choked as she tried to take in what Lew was telling her so calmly, "I had to go with them…"

He shook his head, "no, no you didn't, Grace…"

"You can't blame me for going away when you did _nothing_ to make me stay", she admitted.

"What does that mean?" He challenged. "Can _you_ tell me that you felt nothing for me?"

"Is this what we're doing right now?..."

"Can you tell me that?" he appealed.

She gave up, "no…I was…_infatuated _with you." She studied his contemplative expression, "and don't tell me you didn't know it."

"I honestly didn't", he imparted.

"Well I _was_…but I changed…I grew up." She sighed, wishing she hadn't had so much to drink, feeling the cognac float around her head, "…and I had to leave home…I had to break myself of you. You were always teasing me with your pseudo-affection…but you broke your habit of me when you got married…so I broke mine of you when I went away…and I turned into who I'm supposed to be". She took a breath as he stepped closer, a remorseful look on his face, "I am in love with Ron, and he loves me…"

"I know that…if I know _anything_ , I know that", Lew affirmed, his ebbing buzz urging him to do what he had always wanted to do since he could remember anything, "…I just…", he trailed off as he leaned forward, grabbing Grace around the waist and pressing his lips to hers. Her lips were warm as he kissed her desperately; shivering slightly from the remarkable sensation, he tried to impart on her how selfish he knew he was being. He realized she was not fighting against him…she was letting him kiss her. A part of his brain knew he should stop, but he could not allow himself to pull away…_he needed to feel this, it would only happen once_. He felt tears streak down his face, and thinking they were hers, he whispered in between kisses, "just one time…" His fingers gently held her jaw, and then slipped down onto her neck as he hiccupped…it was then that he recognized _he_ was the one crying. "Grace…" he wept.

Grace pulled away, her hands lightly on his chest. "You need to get into bed", she soothed. He nodded, his eyes closed like a small child who was sick. "We need to get you out of these wet clothes", she whispered. He nodded again and began to strip haphazardly, tossing his clothes to the ground. Grace walked across the room and turned down his bed.

Leaving his skivvies on, he trudged to her, falling into his bed. As he felt her cover him with the sheet and blanket, he spoke in a small voice, keeping his eyes closed to the spinning room, "tell me I've had a good life…tell me I'm a good man".

Stunned and saddened, Grace answered strongly, ignoring her trembling lip and fresh tears falling down her cheeks, "you are, I promise". He didn't answer, he just kept breathing. She turned and grabbed his discarded clothes, laying them around the floor to dry. She found a glass and a pitcher of water. Filling up the glass, she left it beside his bed, located two aspirin in his pack, and set them beside the glass. Studying his relaxed expression for a moment, she brought her hand up to her face, stifling her crying.

She turned on her heel and walked to the door, locking the knob before closing it tightly behind her. She welcomed the feeling of the cold rain this time, as she walked down the stairs and toward Ron's room.

**IRISH WORDS:**

**go hifreann leat – 'guh hee-fran lath' = To hell with you**

**is tu mo ghra – 'ish tu muh graw' = I love you**

**Tapadh leat – 'tapah lath' = Thank you**

**(Note – the 'th' in an Irish accent is more like a soft 't' sound.)**

**REVIEW and let me know what you think! More to come soon.**


	43. Chapter 43

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Ah! I KNEW that last chapter would get a "loud" reaction from you all. THANK YOU so very much for reaching out and letting me know what you thought. Xoxo.**

**And…..without giving games away up front…the following MAY contain some long awaited 'adult-embraces'. **

Walking in the rain was soothing to her.

Grace wasn't numb, she wasn't shocked, she was no longer even cold…she did, however, feel a profound sense of vindication.

As she walked towards Ron's room, she rapidly took inventory of every single significant interaction with Lewis that she could recall. It made so much sense…all of the moments played in her mind and she realized, as a young woman, she had been so overwhelmed by her _own_ feelings and insecurities that she was blind to how he had felt. Everything clicked into place for her, and it boiled down to one thing: they _had_ been each others' first loves. As unorthodox as that sounded, it was the truth – emotionally and essentially.

Lew had confessed that he knew they were not meant for one another…he also said that he had felt he'd lost a chance with her and that he was alone. While that broke her heart for him, it simultaneously awakened a deep sense of gratitude for what she had managed to find with Ron.

Would she tell Ron what had just happened? At the thought of withholding the truth of what had occurred, her heart did not speed up one beat. She didn't need to tell him…there was no reason to make him worry, to be the damsel-in-distress once again…that was not who she was.

In this moment, she was at peace with herself and with the revelations made. It was part of her past, part of who she was…and it had come to a circle; she could _really_ move on now – move on with Ron.

She had made it all the way to Ron's room without getting the attention of any of the other officers that happened to be awake.

Standing there, silent at the closed door, she suddenly realized she had no idea where her belongings had been taken or placed. She was brought here with Lew…and the day had completely run away from her. Smiling, she imagined herself wearing Ron's BDU shirt and field jacket…his last name was on his jacket…the men would grill her if she was seen wearing that. Just for fun, though, she _would_ have to put it on in privacy…she liked the idea of seeing his last name blazoned across her chest.

The door opened.

"Hi", she whispered, her lips still curved in a smile. He didn't say anything, just looked her over intensely and extended his hand to her. "How did you know I was out here? I didn't knock".

"I heard dripping", he answered, his eyes dropping down to her soaking pants and the puddle of rainwater surrounding her jump boots. He frowned as her teeth chattered slightly, "come in, love". As she walked into his room, he studied her – her gait, the way she was breathing, the set of her shoulders – to make sure she was all right. He would be God damned if Nixon had put a finger on her - figuratively _or_ literally. Grace stopped near the window and desk, attempting to keep the dripping water in one spot. As she began to unbutton her BDU shirt, Ron stepped behind her and pulled her hair over to one side of her neck. "You ok?" he whispered, pressing a kiss to the pale skin behind her jaw.

She stilled her movements, distracted by his warm breath, and nodded. His arms circled in front of her and finished unbuttoning her shirt. Her eyes slid closed as his hands pulled the woolen shirt down her torso and off her body. Goose bumps broke out over her skin as his hands slid beneath her undershirt and pulled it up and over her head, leaving her in her soaked bra and pants. "I'm wet", she hushed. Ron's breathing hitched behind her and her eyes opened as she realized her words could be evocative.

"From the rain...?" he murmured, his heart thudding in his chest.

Biting her lip, she turned in his arms to face him. She placed her hands on his chest, covered only by his undershirt, feeling him pull her close as she looked into his eyes. She grew bold; from all the displays of human nature she had seen in war…she longed for the most _human_ of them all in this moment…a touch from someone who loved her. "Sure…" she trailed off suggestively, her voice barely a hum.

The pupils in his eyes blew wide as he leaned down and captured her lips. A wave of need washed over Grace when Ron's lips met hers. Ron felt her shiver against him, "we need to warm you up".

She nodded distractedly, pulling at his shirt and bringing him closer, as his fingers began to undo her trousers. Shifting her weight, she managed to loosen and kick off her jump boots. Faces close, their noses touching, they were exchanging heated breath as her pants fell to the floor with the weight of the rain soaked wool.

His brow furrowed as he cupped her bottom; instead of feeling the familiar scratchy fabric of Army boxers, he felt a smooth and silky thin material. As his fingers splayed out to feel the garment more, he encountered the skin of her backside. Grace smiled as his cheeks reddened, having remembered what she was wearing, "I helped myself to a few pairs of girly under-things…months ago, when we were in France".

Ron took one step back as his gaze flew over her pale figure. He unconsciously licked his lips, "you are so beautiful", he whispered. He swallowed and brushed her drying hair behind her shoulders, "and you are mine". The enormity of the situation had hit him suddenly. He had found love in war; he found _the _woman he could not live without in the midst of the European Theatre of war. They had both survived so much since they met in 1942…their hearts had remained intact despite the physical scars…and he couldn't be more thankful for whatever he did to capture her. His eyes slid down her body again as she kicked away her sopping clothes. As she turned back to him, cheeks pink and eyes bright, Ron's heart skipped, "I have to touch you", he breathed.

Wetting her parted lips, Grace stepped forward and grasped the hem of Ron's undershirt, "off", she urged quietly.

He complied silently as she pulled his shirt up, exposing the tan expanse of his masculine frame. Tossing the shirt to the ground, her hands came to rest on his toned chest, feeling his heart pound as he caught her mouth in a kiss.

Grace gasped as his hot skin pressed against her cold body. Exchanging shaky yet needy breaths between kisses, Ron's fingers snaked up her naked back and fluidly snapped off the clasp of her bra. "Off", he husked, mimicking her tone. He slipped it off and dropped it to the floor as she reached for the button on his trousers. Ron stopped her eager hands, "I would sell my soul to feel your hands on me", he murmured, "but I want this to be about you".

"Ron…" she breathed.

He gently grabbed her hand and placed it on his heart, "tonight, I'm focusing on you". Pulling her against him, he groaned as he felt the sensation of her naked chest pressed on his.

Grace sighed as her hands skimmed up Ron's chest, onto his neck and into his hair as her lips moved in sync with his. He gave himself into the sensual kiss as his large palm explored the smooth span of her back. Walking forward, he stopped when the back of her legs hit the mattress. Their eyes were locked together as Grace leaned back and lied down with her head on his pillow. Placing his hands on either side of her knees, Ron kissed his way up her body. _Her body, nearly naked and panting for him_; he throbbed with the thought and the sight before him.

Grace bit her lip as he placed his lips on her thigh, her hip, her stomach…making a trail up, her heart pounding the whole time. He could feel her muscles jumping under the touch of his lips and lying on his side against her, Ron kissed her pout urgently as his fingers meandered up her torso and slid softly onto her breast. Her back arched into his warm touch as she breathed into his mouth. He reveled in the soft sounds of approval escaping her at _his_ ministrations.

After teasing her breasts, Ron held his breath as his hand moved down her stomach then hit the top of her panties. He opened his eyes to look at her face, to judge her demeanor. Greeted with the sight of her tender smile, he could breathe again as his fingers slipped beneath her underwear and slid down between her thighs.

He moaned delicately at her warmth, and when she parted her legs further for him, he leaned down and kissed her passionately, enjoying the feeling of playing her body, of her reacting to his touch.

As his fingers moved erotically against her, Grace pushed her lips harder against his as to stifle her eager moans. A few mewls leaving her, she felt a heady cloud of pure pleasure take her over. _She was in Ron's bed, and he was touching her…really touching her_.

"Oh God", she cried out as his fingers slid into her, her back arching. His mouth closed on the peak of her breast as he intimately moved his hand against her. Gasping as he rubbed a spot within her, Grace rolled her hips in time with his pace; her hands running through his hair and up and down his back and arms.

Ron kissed up her chest and onto her neck, breathing in time with her and feeling her move in tandem with him. With his lips parted against her neck, he opened his eyes and nearly came undone at the sight, without the aid of her hands. Her chest was rising and falling with her rapid breathing, her hips rolling in a wonderful rhythm; and between the slight valley of her breasts, he could see his hand intimately touching her. The view was intoxicating and Ron's eyes rolled back as he felt her inner walls begin to clench on his fingers. Turning his face towards her, he licked her neck as she clung to his shoulders.

The liquid heat in her stomach pooled and spilled over as she felt her climax burst through. Her face turned to his as she held herself to him. His body tensing with her, his scent swirling around her…he was all over her.

"Let me hear you", he growled in a pant, breathing into her cheek. She moaned gently, her lips brushing his, her breathing sporadic. She rode out wave upon wave of bliss; she felt like she was in a dream. Emotion welling up inside his chest, Ron pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly, fully. "I love you", he husked after a minute.

"I love you more", she professed, smiling and catching her breath.

"No you don't", he grinned.

"In _this_ moment, I do", she nodded. He leaned down again and kissed her as he gently pulled his fingers from her, his mouth quieting her gasp. She sighed as he shifted, settling down and lying beside her. "That was…" she trailed off contentedly.

"Absolutely amazing", he finished.

She smiled, her resting heart picking up again, "really?"

Shifting again so they were lying on their side and facing one another, Ron smirked at her flushed face, "do you know how long I've wanted to touch you?"

Grace answered his question with one of her own, "do you know how long I've wanted you to…?" After a moment of silence, she continued, confessing, "I've imagined you doing that".

"You thought of me…?"

Still sky high, she nodded, "yes…I've touched myself thinking of you", she admitted in a whisper.

His heart began to pound, "God…did you?" She simply nodded, quickly pecking his nose. "I've thought of you too…" Her blood pumped faster as she leaned over and kissed him, her hand coming up confidently and stopping on the button of his pants. Again, he stopped her, shaking his head, "you don't have to…"

"I want to", she promised, kissing him thoroughly and coaxing his shoulders to relax. Easily undoing the button to his pants the sliding down the zipper, she pushed them down over his hips. "I love you", she whispered.

"Now I love _you_ more", he urged.

"Hmmm…" she moaned as she slipped her hand into his shorts and gently gripped him in her palm. Gasping, Ron bucked into her hand as his hot breath filled her mouth.

"Jesus", he hissed as she slid her hand down and around him and back up. As she repeated her motions, his fingers – which had gripped her shoulders – slid up her throat, buried themselves into her hair, and held her face to his. "You feel good", he murmured. Her only response was to kiss him; pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth, she kissed around his face, avoiding his lips. He groaned in frustration as she kissed down his chest, focusing in on his breathing and movements.

He groaned again, deeper this time as his hips rolled. Her heart pounded at the sight of him unraveling and she knew he was close, "your pants…" she remarked, the obvious question in her voice.

"Fuck 'em", he panted, squeezing his eyes shut and feeling himself fall over the invisible ledge. Grace leaned forward, catching his lips and kissing him forcefully, she felt him jerk up and moan. Warmth spilled down her hand as she palmed him slowly and sensuously, enjoying his labored breathing and masculine moans.

Slowing her movements and coming to a gradual stop, Grace released Ron from her kiss and touch. She looked him over, appreciating his chest rising and falling, and feeling a surge of pure feminine power. "You are so handsome", she imparted confidently.

"And you, my darling girl, are a goddess", he said reverently, leaning up and pulling her in for a kiss. "I will _never_ tire of kissing you".

"Likewise", she smiled, wiping her hand discreetly on the comforter.

Ron noticed and smirked, "we've made a mess of each other".

"I do not mind", Grace affirmed.

"Nor do I", he responded, pushing his pants off and tossing them to the floor.

He lied back down to her, facing her. Gathering her into his arms, they met in an intense kiss, filled with lingering satisfaction and laced with fatigue. After sliding under the sheets, their limbs tangled, their breath slowed, and their consciousness slipped…they both drifted off to sleep.

Ooooooooooo

Pink rays of early morning sun gently filtered through the window and its diffused light settled on the two entwined figures on the bed. Evidence of passion from the night before littered the room…jump boots discarded, two pairs of wool pants strewn on the wooden floor, a man's undershirt, a woman's brassiere.

Her eyes fluttered and opened upon the image of Ron's slightly stubbled jaw and parted lips. She studied each and every one of the dark lashes that framed his green eyes, hidden behind his eyelids. Her focus shifted appraisingly to his masculine nose and sculpted cheekbones…she remembered D-Day, when she decorated his face with the black soot before jumping. Sliding her gaze to the curve of his neck, she followed the line to his collarbone and shoulder…her heart skipped a beat at the beautiful man beside her.

She smiled as he stirred beneath her stare. Running her hand tenderly through his tousled hair, she giggled when he groaned appreciatively. "A man could get used to this", he teased.

"I could wake up every morning next to you", she whispered seriously.

He opened his eyes to her calm and honest face, "that can be arranged." She smirked as he turned to his side, wrapping an arm around her waist, "I _am _a feared Captain, after all".

"I happen to know that", she nodded.

After pressing a soft kiss to her lips, he brought his hand up to stroke her cheek before grasping her waist again and fixing her with a convinced stare, "…and I plan on falling asleep beside you every night for the rest of my life".

Her heart skipped a beat as she registered the significance of his tone and words; she licked her lips and smirked, joking, "was that your idea of a proposal, Mr. Speirs?"

"Miss Grant", he began, his voice dipping low as he held her close, "_when_ I propose to you, you will know it".

"Okay…" she hushed, breathless that he had just admitted to wanting to marry her.

"Where would you want to live?" he asked peacefully after a companionable moment.

"When?"

"When we get back", he clarified.

"My father's house is in New York, in Manhattan", she spoke after thinking, "no one lives there…and hasn't since 1940. It's mine now." Grace turned to his listening face, "its large and full of memories…I don't know if I would _want_ to start my own life there…I think I'd want to be somewhere else…somewhere with a lake or something nearby".

"A lake?"

"Hmm…yes. I love the water", she smiled, "…somewhere quiet sounds nice. What about you?"

"My parents' house is near the water. I loved growing up there", he answered.

"Do you want children?" she asked quietly, feeling safe and warm in his embrace.

He turned to her and his eyes searched hers warmly, "yes…eventually".

"Eventually?" she mused.

He smirked, "well, we _could _get started now, but we've still got a war to win", he joked, "plus, I would rather enjoy life with only you before adding to the world's population".

"Good answer", she agreed as he kissed her.

He pulled away suddenly, holding back a grin and joking "are you opposed to naming a child Vladimir...even a girl?" Unable to hold back a laugh, Grace giggled as Ron pulled himself atop her, kissing her deeply.

**A shorter chapter, I know…but I doubt you really mind ;-)**

**I am working diligently on the next one…and I appreciate everything you all have to say and think about what's going on…so let me know!**


	44. Chapter 44

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Thank you for being so patient for this chapter. Whoever you are, 'Guest' reviewer…I absolutely appreciate the motivational and funny reviews you've left me to keep me writing. I love it. This one is for you. Xoxo – Finn **

"Hey you guys hear the news?" Harry barked at Ron and Grace as they descended the stairs of CP.

"Good morning to you too", Ron muttered, smirking.

"What news?" Grace asked from in front of him.

"Three hundred thousand Krauts just surrendered", he informed proudly, "we're moving out in twenty…an orderly will come and grab your stuff".

"Three hundred thousand", Grace echoed.

Harry nodded as she got to the bottom floor of the foyer and placed an arm around her shoulder, "looks like the end is in sight, Angel".

"So no drop into Berlin", Grace started as Harry shook his head. She turned to Ron, "the boys will be disappointed".

"We're going to the Alps…Bavaria", Harry said. "Hitler ordered the SS to take to the mountains there and engage anyone who comes up."

"I'd rather go SS hunting then drop on Berlin any day", Ron confidently announced

Lip walked into the room, "morning…you guys headed to the jeeps?"

"That we are", Harry confirmed, steering Grace outside with him.

"I have to see my guys…make sure they're all set to go, I'll meet you at the jeeps", Grace informed, patting Harry's hand.

Ron stepped forward, "I'll go with you…make the rounds".

The street was chaotic – jeeps and trucks littered the stone streets, paratroopers darted through throngs of German civilians, officers and orderlies shouting over the ruckus.

Grace spoke to Ron over the noise, "do you think this could be the end?"

"Three hundred thousand is a lot of men, but until there's an unconditional surrender from them, we're not out of the woods yet", Ron shrugged.

Grace smiled conspiratorially at him, "we came downstairs just in time, huh?"

Ron laughed, "you're right about that". As they neared 2nd platoon's truck, he spotted Perconte thumbing an impressive silver lighter; impulsively, Ron fished out two cigarettes from his pack.

Grace jogged forward to the jeep and George intercepted her, tossing a baseball into a glove on his hand, "morning Gracie…what's the word?"

At the sound of her name, Perco, Bull, Garcia, Christianson and Web turned to her approaching figure, "morning guys, how we doing?"

They all groaned the usual morning greetings as Ron stepped up beside Grace, "Hey Perconte…you got a lighter?"

"No sir, I don't smoke", Frank answered.

"Where's Don?" Grace asked Christianson, her brow furrowing.

He shrugged, "ah, you know him…he'll be around".

Next to him, Bull saluted Speirs, "what are the orders, sir?"

Ron saluted back and turned his attention back to Perco, knowing he was lying, "we're going to the Alps", he answered, "now let me see that lighter". Grace's eyes skipped to Ron, not about to believe he had the gall to outwardly _take_ Frank's lighter right under his nose.

Begrudgingly, Perco handed over the large sliver lighter, "the Alps?" George walked closer, seeing the exchange and winking at Grace.

"That near Berlin, sir?" Bull asked.

"No", Ron gruffed, studying the detailed lighter.

"It's in Bavaria", Webster clarified, "the birthplace of national socialism". Grace smirked at the human encyclopedia that was David Webster.

"So that means no drop into Berlin?" George posed, his face a mask of worry.

"No drop into Berlin", Ron began, swiftly, he lit the two cigarettes and naturally passed one to Grace.

"Hitler ordered the Waffen SS to hole up in the mountains and repel all the invaders, he wants them to start a guerilla war", Grace finished for him, taking the lit cigarette with a nod.

"They'll die to the last man trying", Ron added, leaning to Grace's ear, "you all set to go?" She nodded discreetly.

Bull smirked, "invaders…I like the sound of that".

"We're all good here…everyone accounted for, everybody okay?" Grace asked Bull who nodded.

"We are all good, Lieutenant", he winked.

She smiled and nodded, "alright…well you know where I am".

The truck revved its engine and the men began throwing more packs into the back, loading up.

"Sir…" Perco began, and Grace looked up to him, seeing his gaze follow Ron's turning back.

Perco watched in amazement as Grace gently reached forward and slipped the lighter from Speirs' hand; Speirs' fingers tightened around her grasp. Frank turned to see if anyone else was witnessing this display of courage on Grace's part; seeing no one looking, he nudged George who climbed in the truck next to him. Having George's attention, he nodded to the exchange between Grace and Speirs.

George's eyes widened and Perco smirked. "What's she doin'?" he whispered.

"Perco", Grace called and fluidly tossed his lighter back to him.

"Nice lighter", Speirs grumbled from beside her, the two of them turning and walking away, towards the jeeps.

Frank and George watched silently as the two officers smirked at one another, obviously thinking no one was watching them. Grace nudged Speirs' shoulder with hers lightly and laughed, saying something. He _smiled_, actually smiled – Perco had never seen that before – and nonchalantly put his arm around her waist, quickly pulling her to his side before letting her go.

"Did you just see what I just saw?" Frank hushed.

"Oh yeah", George nodded.

"Where's Malarkey?" Bull called over the truck.

"Oh Jesus…where is that block head?" Lieb groaned, climbing in.

"Probably going to say goodbye to that Fraulein I told him about", George croaked.

"Well…go find him, Perco…and tell Lieutenant Grant we've got a hold up", Bull ordered.

George smirked as Frank groaned and jumped off the back of the truck, running in the direction of the jeeps, cursing Don's hankering for that blonde who'd already smacked George once before.

"You couldn't have just let me keep that lighter?" Ron muttered as they turned to walk back to their jeeps.

"Are you kidding?" Grace laughed, nudging him with her shoulder, "he was staring like a kid who had his lollipop taken away".

Ron smiled at the image and quickly pulled her body close to his side, "you're lucky I'm in love with you".

Grace scoffed but smiled, "don't think I don't know that". She looked to him and they held their gaze for a moment; silently acknowledging the change in their relationship that came last night and this morning. _He loves me_, she thought, and biting her lip, she smirked at the ground as they got near to the jeeps. Looking up, her thudding heart sputtered. The only jeep in their outfit with room was with Dick and Lewis. Swallowing her heart, she quickly surveyed Lew's posture before he spotted her looking; his eyes were tired and blood shot, his clothes slightly rumpled and it was obvious that he hadn't shaved. She was in a bubble with Ron and really didn't want to tempt its bursting with Lew and what had happened between them last night.

Ron noticed her hesitation, "you alright?"

Having heard Ron's voice and their approach, Dick and Lew turned to them, "morning Grace, Speirs", Dick said cordially.

"Morning", Grace answered, her gaze on him. Lew looked at her and instinctively opened his mouth to say something, but thinking better of it realizing this was neither the time nor the place. She looked back at him, the corners of her mouth raising slightly, knowing he was remorseful and knowing he had nothing to be sorry for; what he had confessed last night was honest – it was _his_ truth, and she had no problem with that.

Ron caught their exchange and narrowed his eyes at Nixon, instantly knowing something was off…that something had happened when Grace went to fetch him last night in the rain.

"Lieutenant Grant!" Perco called, out of breath and jogging up to them.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Malarkey isn't in the truck…and I can't find him", he informed reluctantly.

Dick spoke out to them from the driver's seat of the jeep, "Grace, you go with Frank to find Don…might as well ride with them in the truck when you do. We'll see you when we get there".

Grace could kiss Winters for his intervention in this moment. She nodded, "alright, sir…I'll see you all there". She looked to Ron and nodded, smiling reassuringly. Gathering her rifle, she nodded to Frank and jogged after him into the crowd.

"Sorry about that, Gracie…I didn't mean to take you away", he apologized as they ran in and out of the nearby buildings, eyes open for Don's figure.

"Don't worry about it Frank, it happens", she responded, not wanting to tell him that he did her a favor.

As they ran closer to their truck, Bull was yelling out for them.

"He's here! Malarkey is with us, he came back!" he called, as the truck began to pull slowly away.

"Jesus Christ", Grace laughed as she ran forward, pushing Frank in front of her to run after the truck. "Go, go…jump on", she hollered to him as he threw his stuff onto the back and was pulled on by Bull, falling backwards and inside.

"Come on Grace, I got you", Don called out, his arms open and leaning down.

The truck sped up a little more and Grace huffed out in frustration, "fuck's sake!" Pumping her legs faster, she laughed in spite of herself, thoroughly enjoying the free feeling she got from chasing after the truck. She tossed her rifle and helmet onto the truck, to George's open hands.

"Come on, Grace!" Joe yelled.

She ran faster, grabbing Don's hands as he gripped her wrists hard. Jumping, she was pulled up and into the truck like a sack of potatoes and landed right on top of him as he fell onto his back, ramming her shoulder into George's knee.

"God damnit!" George exclaimed, grabbing his knee.

The truck ramped into full gear and sped down the street, in a line with all the others. Grace rolled off Don, placing a hand on her shoulder, her back on the wooden floor.

Around them, all the men in the trucks and jeeps began to sing, "…he had to sit and listen to those awful engines roar, 'you ain't gonna jump no more'!"

Don groaned a bit and looked to Grace as she began to laugh despite the dull pain. He and the other men laughed along with her. "Ow…", she laughed, Don nudging her. "You alright George?" she asked, catching her breath, her face turned up toward him.

He nodded, "I'm fine, Gracie-bird…god damnit, Don".

"I'm real sorry, Luz", Don muttered.

"…Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die! Gory gory, what a hell of a way to die!..."

"You ok?" Grace asked him, her laughter ebbing.

He nodded, helping her up to sit beside him. "You alright Grace?" Bull asked, eyeing her shoulder.

Grace nodded as Christianson smirked, "never a dull day in the paratroopers".

Pulling out of the town and making their way into the picturesque country side, the men kept singing the song, their voices ringing together and marking the irony of the lyrics…no jump into Berlin – they weren't gonna jump no more.

Grace smiled and sang with them, enjoying the sun on her face and being with the men. In that moment, she felt a million miles away from the war. Closing her eyes to the sound and sun, it was almost as if they were all back in Toccoa. "He hit the ground, the sound was 'SPLAT', his blood went spurting high; his comrades, they were heard to say 'A Hell of a Way to Die!' He lay there, rolling 'round in the welter of his gore, and he ain't gonna jump no more!"

"GRACIE!"

Looking to the truck behind them, Grace spotted Tab, Johnny, and Babe waving from their truck. She stood up and waved back with George, Perco and Don, all four of them calling out the lyrics and singing loud with the men, "gory, gory what a hell of a way to die! Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die! Gory, gory, what a hell of a way….he ain't gonna jump no more!"

The song ended and the men all picked up their conversation; cigarettes were passed around and lit, some men busted out food they had managed to take from the village they just left. George tossed an apple to Grace from across him; she smiled and winked her thanks.

"It's gonna be good times, Wed", Lieb started, "when we get home, I mean. First thing I'm gonna do is get my job back at the cab company in 'Frisco", Grace watched, amused as Joe poured out his plans to Webster, who was trying to eat something out of his tin cup. "…make a killing off all those fuckin' sailors coming home, you know?" Lieb looked around casually, seeing who else was listening to him, "then I'm gonna find me a nice Jewish girl with great, big, soft titties…" Grace couldn't help herself but laugh out loud at Joe's honesty. He looked right at her and winked, "…and a smile to die for. Marry her…then I'm gonna buy a house – a big house with lots of bedrooms – for all the little Liebgott's we're gonna be makin'". Grace pondered, but had a hard time imagining Ron talking about their future with that sort of…_enthusiasm_.

"He's a romantic, isn't he?" Malarkey joked in her ear beside her.

"He's breakin' my heart", she laughed, biting into her apple. "What are your plans after the war?"

Don smiled, "go home I guess….back to Astoria. I didn't finish school before I went to Toccoa and all this started…but I've saved money to pay off my tuition and go back."

"That's great!" she exclaimed.

He nodded and smiled, "yeah…so I think I'll go back to school and see where it all takes me. If I'm as lucky as Lieb here, I'll find a nice Catholic girl".

"I don't think it's a stretch to say that you will", Grace passed her apple, sharing with Don who took a big bite.

"What about you?" She turned to him and he continued, "what are you gonna do?"

She shrugged and watched the trees in the distance move by, her eyes settled on George tossing his baseball in the air, "I have no idea".

"What?" he sounded confused.

"I'm serious", she laughed, ironically amused, "look at me…do you see me settling in a little house, making little dinners in a little kitchen," Don laughed aloud as she pantomimed pouring a drink, "…all while wearing heels and little apron?"

"You're always welcome to wear heels and a little apron at my house, Grace", he deadpanned. She barked a laugh, he held out the apple, and she took a bite. He nudged her, speaking in a low voice, "no…I see Sparky riding off with _you _into the sunset…happily ever after".

She smiled at him, putting her arm around his shoulders and crossing her legs, "we'll see, Malark." She wasn't about to discuss her relationship with her C.O. – which was still unethical – with a man in her own platoon, there was no good reason to fuel the rumors…but Grace couldn't help but wonder _when _she would realize the war may be coming to an end soon. Her entire adult life had been lived in a world with war…hell, she had been _at _war, lugging a rifle around and seeing her friends die, her entire adult life.

She recalled what Lew had told her, all those months ago in Carentan…_she had been at war so long, she was banking on not making it out alive_. As happy as she was that she had lived through it so far, the reality of the world was harsh – she was a woman…how in the hell would she acclimate to civilian life once she got back home? There was no way she would be able to stomach having to assume a happy-house-wife role…she had lived too much, knew too much, seen too much.

Not willing to think about it now, she nodded her head at Perco and chuckled, he was brushing his teeth _again_. Beside him, George was looking at Janovec, who was reading a newspaper.

"Whatcha reading?" he inquired.

"An article", Janovec said distractedly to Luz.

"No shit", George smirked, "what's it about?"

"It's about why we're fighting the war".

George nodded, "why are we fighting the war, Janovec?"

Grace shook her head at George's annoying persistence as Janovec answered, "it seems that the Germans are bad…very bad".

"You don't say, the Germans are bad, huh?", George mocked, winking at Grace and Don then turning to Frank. Perco laughed as George looked at him, "hey Frank…this guy's reading an article that says the _Germans_…are _bad_", his eyes grew even larger as he made a face.

"Learn something new every day, huh?" Don quipped, taking another bite of the apple.

After a companionable while later, the men were ordered to quiet down.

They passed by a large white sign painted with black letters saying: 'You are now entering ENEMY TERRITORY. Keep on the Alert!'

Grace smirked humorlessly, _the war ain't over yet_.

Oooooooooo

Hours ago, the sun had gone down. Easy company had pulled into a small town after driving for as long as the gas in the trucks could take them. They were to stay in this building for one night. Problem was – this building was full of German civilians. In an area like this, where the enemy could be anywhere, they had to clear the building entirely to occupy it to stay the night safely.

"Let's go, let's go", Grace called out evenly to her men running up the darkened stairs.

Grace had led second platoon in first, following Ron. Abstractedly observing her actions, she recognized her comfort in slipping into a platoon leader role and wielding a gun; she would rather do this than merely _think_ about what her options might be when she got home. She was annoyed with herself and her weaknesses having realized this. She had watched Ron as they all prepared to enter the building. Her heart had stuttered as he appeared a bit distressed to her. _How selfish she was_, she damned herself…she had let herself walk away from her problem with Lew and allowed Ron to sit with him. What the fuck was wrong with her? The day, which had begun peaceful and joyful, had quickly soured for her…and she was to blame for it.

The trip to the town had been relaxing yet contemplative for Ron. While Dick kept engaging him in casual conversation, Nixon had remained quiet - chiming in every now and then when provoked. Ron surmised his assumption had been correct, that something had happened last night…Nixon avoided Ron's stare. Typically Nixon's behavior toward Ron bordered on indifference…but the strain in his shoulders told Ron his silence was anything but.

As concerned as he was as to _what _happened, Ron wondered more _why_ she hadn't said anything about it. If she had, they may have not had the night they did…which Ron had spent years envisioning and it was wonderful…but he wished he knew what happened; he just wanted to make sure she was okay and unhurt. He intended to ask Grace exactly what it was later.

Ron and Grace busted into an apartment in the building, her men filing in behind her. The German woman in the room was speaking rapidly; Ron stalked in behind Perco and Lieb with Grace in his wake, speaking to Lieb on what to translate.

"Tell her she's got five minutes", Ron spoke, taking off his helmet. Lieb began translating, and all over the building, Grace could hear people shouting in English and German alike. Keeping a keen eye out over her men, she caught eyes with the young German boy sitting at the dinner table; his blue eyes held onto hers like a vice, watching her with fear and fascination.

"Lieutenant, she says she's got nowhere to go but the house next door is better", Joe called over to Grace.

"No, tell her it's only for one night and she's running out of time", Grace asserted, her voice commanding, the young boy's eyes widened at Grace's tone. As Joe began to speak, the German woman stepped forward and yelled something violently towards her, pointing her finger.

Ron stalked forward at once, stepping in front of Grace, "it's only gonna be for one night", he yelled over her fiercely, "you've got four minutes", fixing her with a serious stare as Joe translated before walking over to a nearby table and setting his helmet down.

Grace oversaw the rest of the building's occupation. Her men had taken the building without incident and were now unloading the trucks outside and assigning rooms for things inside.

She made her way outside to see how the rest of the 101st was fairing and if her trucks were done unloading. It was an organized yet loud chaos outdoors. The streets were winding and poorly lit, troopers were darting to and fro, trying to remove the last loitering Germans from the area to secure it.

Grace was surveying the medical truck when a voice came from behind her, "Grace".

She turned to him, knowing who he was, "hey Lew".

"Everything okay?" he asked, gesturing to the truck.

She nodded, "oh yes…we're just about sorted here". She looked to him fully, observing him and seeing an uncharacteristic coyness about him, "you okay?" He nodded, but didn't speak, simply looked her over. She smiled, wanting to smooth things over and move on, let him know what had happened was okay. "I'm alright", she began, "everything…_it's _alright."

"No, Grace", he started, "it's not, okay? I woke up and I knew what I'd done and ,God, it _still_ seemed like a dream, like it didn't happen…but it did and I'm so sorry".

"Lew", she stated seriously, "it's alright, no need to apologize…"

He interrupted her, shaking his head, "I _do _need to apologize…for more than just…_that_ – the obvious, you know?" Grace nodded, knowing he was insinuating the kiss, and allowed him to speak. "I'm sorry for roping you into the jump", she moved to talk over him and he held up a hand, "let me finish…I'm the one who got you to go, and I'm sorry for that…but I also know I may not be here if I hadn't taken you. I shouldn't have said that shit about not having fired a round…that was wrong." Grace bit her lip to control her emotions as he stepped forward and spoke in a low voice, "and what I did last night…I'm sorry if I hurt you".

She held his sincere gaze for a moment and nodded, "it's already forgiven", she promised; they smiled at one another and she could see the weight lifting from his shoulders.

"I have to go report to Dick…I wanted to make sure this was alright before", he divulged. She nodded and he leaned over, kissing her cheek, "goodnight, Gracie."

"Night Lewie", she called to his retreating form, and then turned back to the truck. She yanked the hitch closed and locked it in place until they left tomorrow.

"We all good?" Ron stepped from the darkened side of the truck, looking intently at Grace. She bit the inside of her cheek, _knowing_ he had to have heard something. She had nothing to hide…but the principle was she did not want to hurt him in any way…and the idea of him thinking she intentionally withheld something from him was intolerable to her.

"We are all good, all set to go", she articulated evenly, holding his gaze honestly and silently imploring an apology.

He nodded, his eyes searching her face then dropped to the ground, "you ready to come inside?" Grace nodded to him, wanting to take his hand but knowing this was not the place. She followed him upstairs three floors to a private room off the stairwell.

She stopped in the middle of the room, not willing to lie and pretend nothing happened. "Ron", she breathed, watching as he walked over to a side table and turned on a lamp.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his tone incredibly serious. Instantly, she hated herself, seeing how much she affected him, how much he was concerned about her. She nodded, and he breathed deeply, and then continued, "why was he apologizing?"

She took a measured breath, "last night…he kissed me".

Ron's heart pumped faster, his blood flew through his veins, boiling…and although his body had a heated reaction, all he could do was bark an ironic laugh. He shook his head, rubbing his neck, "I saw that coming", he muttered.

Grace felt like she was floating…her heart was jumping, like it would stop at any moment, "He said he knew he shouldn't".

"It doesn't matter what he said…he still did it, Grace. He still touched you", he shook his head, growing angry now; not angry with Grace, but at Nixon. Knowing there was nothing she could say to make anything better, she remained quiet. Ron was right, but even though she sympathized with Lew, she was not going to defend his actions. All Ron needed now was to vent…and Grace, feeling as guilty as she did for the entire thing in general, wasn't going to rationalize anything that happened. "What did he mean by saying he was sorry for not firing a round?"

Grace leaned her backside up against the kitchen table, "when we got back from the jump, he went straight for the Vat69 and was drinking it like it was going out of style. Dick asked about the jump, and Lew said three combat jumps were impressive for someone who had never fired a round".

"Why would he apologize for that?" Ron's voice sounded tired and hoarse.

"He said it on purpose to me…he knows that all this had fucked me up".

Ron glared, "what does that mean?"

"How many men have I had to kill? How many have of our own have I held while they died? My hands are figuratively stained with blood…he knew I was jealous of the fact that he doesn't have that…and he exploited it", she admitted.

Ron shook his head, "he had no right to do that. You must know that what you've done, you've done it for yourself, for your men…for me".

"I know, I know that…and I would do it fifty times over again if it meant you were kept safe, believe me", she insisted.

An uncomfortable and unsettled silence filled the air between them. They were both hurting, but for different reasons being left unsaid. She hurt because she hurt him; he hurt because he felt he failed in protecting her.

Growing possessive, Ron clenched and unclenched his jaw, "how did he kiss you?"

Sensing the difference in his tone and stance, Grace asked softly, "why does that matter?" Looking up, Ron fixed her with a pointed and intimidating stare. Sighing silently, she answered, "it was on the lips, it was short…"

"Did you feel anything?" he whispered.

"No", she spoke from her heart, knowing what he wanted to hear, "it meant _nothing_".

Understanding now and seeing it in his mind's eye, Ron's hands formed into fists at his sides. Nixon had acted impulsively and drunkenly and Grace allowed him a moment of weakness. Ron's anger was directed fully at himself, Nixon, and no one else. If he didn't leave and cool off now, he would break something…and he did not want to scare Grace. She was an innocent – this was about him, _not _her.

He turned toward the door, placing his helmet on his head. As he walked out, he heard Grace's breathe hitch and he turned to her. Seeing her dark eyes wide with veiled confusion, he shook his head, "it's not you…it's alright", he husked, and walked out, leaving Grace stunned and alone in the dim room.

Ron walked down the stairs quickly to the first floor, where he knew his room was. Rounding the corner, he stalked right up to his door and knocked.

A couple seconds later, Nixon answered the door, unsurprised to see Speirs on the other side, his eyes burning holes into his head. "Captain Speirs".

Disregarding his greeting, Ron stepped closer to him, keeping his gruff tone even but absolutely threatening, "if you ever touch her again without her consent, I _will_ hurt you, I promise".

Nixon kept a straight face, but inside he had to admit, this man was _frightening_. The only reason he wasn't upset about it was that he knew this man could protect and keep Grace safe forever. He nodded stiffly, "I believe you".

**Review and let me know what you're thinking!**

**xoxo**


	45. Chapter 45

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Thank SO MUCH to all who are reading and reviewing…you keep me going.**

**In personal news, my little 4 year old puppy passed away on Friday. He had a battle with liver disease that he couldn't beat. I am heartbroken, feeling like I couldn't help him, but I am taking one day at a time…so I apologize for the gaps between updates lately, my mind has been elsewhere.**

Ron walked away from Nixon's room with heavy feet, the noxious fog of aggression still permeating his mind. In his heart, he knew the incident between Lewis and Grace had been basically innocent…but he could not shake the desire to destroy something and _claim what was his_.

The unshakeable anger needed time to ebb, so Ron opted to stay out and walk it off. _She was his_, absolutely his, and the caveman in him wanted to steep in the anger for now. He indulged his primal instincts and instead of heading back to her and holding onto her like he so wanted to, he stayed away and ignored his heart.

Where Ron's actions towards Lewis had been restrained and noble, he failed to see how his abrupt departure had affected Grace.

Grace sat at the kitchen table stiffly. She had not breathed properly since he walked away. She looked to her watch; an hour and a half…it had been an hour and a half since he left her.

Growing irritated, she looked around the modest apartment. What the hell was she supposed to do? Run after him like some stupid damsel-in-distress and beg him not to hurt anybody?..._would he actually hurt Lew_? She decided he would not…it would only draw too much attention to them, and she refused to believe Ron would go that far.

Walking to the window and seeing the mostly deserted and darkened street below, she rubbed her hands over her face, acknowledging a headache blossoming rapidly. This wasn't right…why did he leave like that?

Up until this point, they had always been so good at talking about things that occurred between them….right? No…although they did speak about certain events, the _big_ ones had been left unsaid. After all, Lew had told her about Ron's reaction to her MIA stint in Bastogne. Did they _need_ to rehash the past in order to move on with their future? Would things like _this_ keep happening if they didn't?

_What would _she _have done if the roles were reversed_? Would Ron let a kiss happen like she had…did Ron have someone like Lew in _his _life…was there a girl back home that held a torch for him? Inadequacy began to strangle her heart…Ron didn't know her outside of war…_fuck, she barely knew herself_…would he still want her if he did? She shook her head in an attempt to clear it, but the strangled sensation was undeterred. Why would she think this crap? He had told her he loved her, he had implied that he wanted to marry her. Someone like him would not spout those sentiments off without thinking. But…what if the incident with Lew had given Ron second thoughts? Surely, Lewis would be in her life…he's her family…could Ron accept that?

Now uneasy from her attack of self-doubt, Grace dragged the kitchen chair beside the window. She rigidly sat down and her heart in her throat, her vision blurred as she gazed unseeing out the dirty glass.

She felt the cool influence of self-protection slide over her, shielding her heart from any true form of pain. Bullets and shrapnel, as painful as Grace knew they were, they did not hold a candle to the potential heartbreak that Ron had the power to inflict.

Ooooooooo

5:34 in the morning; the sun was making work of burning through the early morning fog and clouds. Fifty minutes ago, Grace had opened the window and allowed the cool air to wash over her and keep her awake and alert. For the last thirty minutes, she had played with an unlit cigarette…the familiar object in her fingers was oddly comforting, even if she didn't have a lighter on her.

The fight and the following inadequacy in her had fled hours ago…and now she was left with the difference of worry. She worried that Ron would rather spend the night off somewhere alone than be with her.

That was a hard pill to swallow.

The door squeaked open and Grace quietly gasped at the sound.

"Tell me you haven't been sittin' there all night", his gravelly voice imparted. She turned to him, his eyes looked as tired as hers did, "please", he whispered. She opened her mouth to lie and his heart broke as he shook his head, "God damnit".

Tentatively standing up, she pocketed the loose cigarette. Looking him over and seeing his deflated posture, she felt guilt, "are you alright?" She wanted to approach him, to touch him…but she was nervous to make the first move.

He nodded, his eyes glued on her, "did you sleep at all?" She shook her head and his stomach turned sour, _that was his fault_.

"Ron", she began…then the wind fled from her sails. She wanted to ask him where he had gone, why didn't he come back to her…but she was scared of what his answer may be. Instead of being direct outright, she went another way, "do you remember the battle in the hedgerow in France…with me and the bazooka?" He nodded, taking a step towards her, his heart thudding as she continued, "I ran out there because I saw our left flank get blown to bits by that Panzer…_you_ were in our left flank and I thought…I thought I had lost you. So I ran out there…fearless". She smiled humorlessly, "I never told you that", she confessed thoughtfully. "I know what it feels like to lose you too…and when you walked away last night", she shook her head, "…please don't make me feel like that again."

Flooded by an enormous sense of guilt, Ron could barely string a sentence together. She had run out in front of a German tank with nothing but a bazooka because she thought he was gone? On the other hand, _he _had run directly into German infantry when they took Foy. He realized how foolish he was…he was not the only one in this relationship to act out on behalf of the other; she was just as capable as him. "I know you don't need protecting, you don't need avenging…I know that…"

"You're wrong", she lightly interrupted, "I _want_ protection…I want _you_ to protect me, I do. But I want you to talk to me too. You were angry last night, I understand that – you are allowed to be, absolutely". She struggled to translate her emotions into words, "I don't want you to walk away from me, to push me away".

Ron was staggered with the revelation of what his actions had meant to Grace, "I wasn't getting away from you…", he began, unsure of how to tell her how he felt; that he needed to flex his muscle and 'declare' her. How does a man tell a woman something like that without objectifying her? She was _not _his to _own_….he knew that, but in the code of men, it was his responsibility to shelter her.

Listening to his silence, Grace filled in the blanks. She knew he had shared words with Lewis last night, she would be a fool to think otherwise. "Okay", she whispered, not wanting to worry him and hearing jeeps being to rumble outside.

"Okay", Ron nodded. He wanted to say 'I love you', but he feared he would cheapen it with the moment they were having. KNOCK. The door knocked, and he immediately regretted not saying it. "Enter".

Lipton opened the door, unsurprised to see them both, "Captain, we're moving out. Lieutenant, the men are at the ready and the jeeps are starting up".

"Thank you, Lip", Ron nodded to him, dismissing him. Grace grabbed his rifle and helmet and handed Ron's stuff to him then picked up her own. "Thank you", he murmured as she held his gaze and smiled softly. Not wanting her to feel crowded or pressured or anything, Ron turned to her and took a gamble, "Grace…why don't you sit with your men for the trip?"

Ice pumped through her heart at his suggestion. She assumed they had reached a slight impasse, but with this, she thought perhaps she had been mistaken. _He needs space, space from her_…that is fair. She nodded, expertly masking the stabbing feeling of rejection, "alright, will do". Lithely putting her helmet on, she ducked out the door and down the stairs.

Sighing, Ron had a feeling she had just horribly misunderstood his intentions.

Outside, Grace located her men loading themselves onto a truck. Happily acknowledging she wouldn't have to _run_ to the truck this time, she briskly jogged over.

"Lieutenant Grant, you joining us for the trip?" Bull asked her.

"I _am_, Bull, hope that's alright", she smirked.

"Do you really have to ask, Gracie?" Lieb smiled as he hopped in and took her rifle from her and the truck's engine fired up.

She grinned as George extended his hands to her and helped her on. As she sat beside him and they began to drive away, he leaned to her ear and whispered, "trouble in paradise?" Biting her tongue and fixing him with an incredulous gaze, George shrugged and peered over her shoulder pointedly. Discreetly following his stare, her eyes found Ron in the jeep behind them. He was in the driver's seat with Dick beside him and Lew behind them; his expression was overly concentrated. "I ask because I care, Angel", George spoke softly.

Grace turned back to his jovial face and nodded, "you care…and you are the heart and soul of Easy's gossip."

"I take offense to that", he scoffed, pinching her arm.

Ooooooooooo

After rolling through a few villages, the long line of trucks and jeeps made it to a large highway. Goosebumps broke out over Grace's skin; for as far as the eye could see, German soldiers marched on foot, accompanied by US Army flanking either side.

Here, in front of her, was visual proof of the German Army's dwindling chance at world domination.

_She wished Chuck were here to see this_.

Across from her, Webster called out over the roaring sound of engines, "hey you!" Grace turned to him and saw his gaze pointed out to the passing German Officers on a jeep. "HEY YOU…that's right! You stupid Kraut bastards…say hello to Ford and General fuckin' Motors!" He pointed wildly to the American's jeeps and trucks. "You stupid, fascist pigs!"

"You gonna step in, Gracie?" Christianson asked beside her. She shrugged, intrigued as to how far Web would take this and personally enjoying his verbal outburst.

"You have horses!", Web continued as his voice cracked, "what were you thinking?!"

Next to Web, Garcia yanked on his sleeve and pulled him down, "Web, Jesus, knock it off…give it a rest".

Shaking his head, his eyes still surveying the Germans, David continued in a hoarse voice, "…draggin' our asses halfway around the world…interrupting our lives…and for WHAT?!" he screamed again, standing up, "you ignorant, servile scum…what the FUCK are we doing here, huh?!"

Grace agreed with him, completely…but yelling and screaming would never produce any answers, "Web?" she called out to him gently, standing up. She nodded at him as he looked to her, his eyes red and glassy, "it's alright". He nodded back, his shoulders relaxing as he took his seat once again. Before sitting down, Grace looked over to the jeep behind them. Ron was staring right back at her, his expression soft.

After some time, they passed through another series of small villages. One, in particular, was crawling with Soviet soldiers. Hearing yelling, Grace looked up and spotted three German soldiers being dragged out of a building, four Soviets behind them with their side arms drawn.

Grace knew what was coming next.

Before the US's involvement with the war, the Germans had decimated the Soviets…now that the tables were turned, there would be no mercy shown.

Her breathing measured and her gaze unwavering, Grace watched as the Germans were forced to their knees, the Soviets behind them shooting them in the backs of their heads immediately. She realized she was gripping the bench when Christianson's hand softly came to rest on top of hers.

Sadly, she observed the rest of her men…mostly unaffected by the execution. They had seen _so _much…this was nothing to what they had seen happen to their friends, their brothers-in-arms. If the roles were reversed, the Germans wouldn't bat an eyelash to kill her or any of her men.

It was a revelation, in this poignant circumstance, to suddenly realize there was a part of her soul that was _still _intact; part of her that still recoiled at an act of violence.

So much death…when would it end?

Ooooooooo

They pulled into a town, with wide gravel streets and barn-like buildings. There were flowers and shrubs lining the roads with German civilians milling about, looking forlorn to the allied invasion.

Struck suddenly at their pitiful expressions, Grace grimaced – _what did they _think _was going to happen_? You begin a world war…_this_ will be the result.

The truck pulled around and parked, and the men jumped out. Walking over to Ron's jeep with Harry and Lip, they corralled around Dick who surveyed the neighborhood warily.

"I want to send out some patrols", he began, "we'll have Dog here in the village and Easy out in the woods".

The Dog company officers ran to their men while Ron turned to them, "Easy company's gonna start at the North-West. Lieutenant Grant and Welsh?"

"Sir", they both answered.

"First and second platoon will begin there and make their way all around", he instructed.

"Yes sir", they nodded, running off to their respected platoons.

"Second platoon on me!" Grace shouted out as her men came running. "Orders are to sweep the surrounding woods. We shouldn't expect any resistance, we're only sweeping in case we spend the night…but keep your rifles out and your eyes open. Any questions?" The men were silent, "alright, let's go".

The woods were quiet, the tall trees creaked softly with the breeze. Out in front, Grace's eyes moved expertly left to right and back again, her weapon casually in front of her. She couldn't shake the odd smell in the air…it smelled _old_, like decay, but not natural decay of wood or anything like that. It was all around them…she couldn't see any evidence of a forest fire, so it was peculiar.

"O'Keefe", Bull said behind her.

"Sarge", he exclaimed.

"Why the hell are you so jumpy, boy?"

"I'm not jumpy", he countered.

"I could hear your heart pounding in Arkansas", Bull laughed.

"Jesus Christ, give the kid a break, Bull", Christianson chuckled.

"Hey George", Frank began, "kinda remind you of Bastogne?"

"What?" George scoffed.

"Come on", Perco defended, "Grace…don't the trees remind you of Bastogne?"

Peering around her shoulder, she smirked at George who spoke and nodded, "you know, now that you mention it…except there's no snow, we've got warm grub in out bellies, and the trees aren't fucking exploding from Kraut artillery, but yeah, Frank, other than _that _it's a lot like Bastogne".

Undeterred from George's obvious sarcasm, Frank nodded, "right?"

"Bull, smack him for me, please?" Grace politely requested. At hearing the hand-to-helmet contact, she smirked, "thank you".

As they kept their pace, the smell only got worse and the noise dramatically decreased. Grace could see the air in front of them grow thicker, like a fog had rolled in.

After minutes of silence, O'Keefe spoke up, "sure is quiet".

"Sure is, fellas", Frank agreed.

Sensing her men's reluctance at the deafening silence, Grace held her hand up, "hold up". The men stopped and she walked forward alone about ten feet. Looking down to the soil and dead leaves, she didn't see any evidence of recent human presence, no footprints, no discarded shell casings or cigarettes. She didn't even hear _birds. _Her breathing the only sound to her ears, she broke the silence by taking her rifle off 'safety' and cocking it. Behind her, the men followed suit as she held up her hand for them to follow her.

Cautious now with the sound they made, the men followed her and kept walking, making it to a large clearing in the trees in front of them.

Grace squinted as she made it past the tree line, seeing a _factory_ of sorts before them.

A large wire fence with a shut door made up the perimeter. Inside, were rows and rows of short buildings, smoke lazily rose out of the tops of a few.

The smell was worse here.

Uneasy with what this could potentially be, Grace felt her men walk up beside her. Suddenly, beyond the smoke in the compound, dozens of figures appeared, all looking towards them and making their way to the fences.

Her eyes going wide at the sight, Grace held her hand up, "stay here", she breathed to her men. Walking forward alone, she studied the figures that were now grasping at the fence and murmuring softly. Her eyes were watering at the rancid stench in the air. They all wore a striped uniform of sorts that hung in tattered scraps off their sickly and frail forms, all their heads were shaved, and there were no women among them. None of them made any attempt to speak or communicate. They didn't appear to be prisoners of war…who are they and why are they here? She stopped and turned back to her men, her eyes finding Frank, "Perco, you're the fastest…run, go and grab Winters and bring him here…tell him we found something." She turned back to the fence before looking at Frank again, "we're going to need all the medics we can get…go".

She heard Perco's footsteps take off into the woods as she turned back to the men behind the fence. George spoke out to her, "who are they?"

She shook her head, "I don't know". Cursing herself for not knowing German and not having Lieb or Web here, she walked forward steadily. The men behind the fence appeared startled and shuffled amongst themselves. Gently and making a show of it, she uncocked her rifle, put the safety on, and swung it off her shoulder, placing it on the ground along with her helmet. The murmurs picked up a bit as she stood up again, this time without her helmet.

From her position, now closer to them, she could see _more _of them, walking out of the short buildings and gathering together. They looked as if they had not eaten in months. There were men of all ages here…as young as her and her men, to men as old as her father.

One man stood before her, his posture was among the straightest. His hollow cheeks were wet, he was crying. Grace held his gaze before he broke down, his shoulders slumping, his face buried behind the boney fingers of his hand.

Looking over to a blockade of sorts that was nearby and up against the inside of the fence, she bit back a gasp, realizing suddenly that it was a charred body. It was a small heap of them…about four bodies in total, their blackened limbs tangled together. Looking around, she could see blackened bundles like this all over the perimeter.

_What the fuck was this place_?

She didn't hear the dull hum of the jeeps and trucks until they had pulled up and the men began filing out.

Turning at the sound, she felt a tear fall down her cheek as her eyes landed on Ron. He was standing in front of all the men, his attention on her.

Ron had pulled up in a jeep with Winters, Nixon, and Perconte, trucks of the rest of Easy following them. When the three other men exited the jeep, Ron could fully see the area in front of him. Tattered men in rags milled about the 'prison'; his eyes searched the premises for her…she was the closest one to the fences, her shoulders stiff. Behind her, her helmet and her rifle were on the ground.

Setting his helmet down in the jeep, he got out and walked forward, his eyes on her. As if sensing his presence, she turned around and looked at him; he could see a tear make its way down her cheek.

Discreetly wiping her face, Grace shoved down her emotional response as she had done so many times before, and made her way over to Winters, ignoring the throbbing in her heart that told her to run to Ron's arms.

"Grace", he murmured as she neared.

"They haven't spoken since we discovered them", she hushed, "I put down my rifle…they seemed bothered by it. I don't think they're military".

"You ok?" he whispered, his face worried. She nodded. He walked forward, Perco behind him with bolt cutters. Frank cut open the first fence, then the second, and Easy Company tentatively entered into the camp.

Ron followed Dick into the camp, but not before squeezing Grace's hand as he walked by. The man in him wanted to do so much more. He wanted to take her away from this place, take her home, and make sure she was safe. Hell, there wasn't even an actual, physical _home_ to take her to yet – it was imaginary. But here, the officer in him was required to do his job.

As Grace walked inside the gates, she saw how much larger this place was…it went on and on. Skinny, sickly, and broken men were shuffling out and around, some of them being held up by others for they could no longer walk on their own.

To her right, there were large holes dug in the earth. Within the holes, _mountains_ of bodies were discarded. Each layer more decayed than the one on top. Bodies, thin and frail like skeletons, were everywhere. They were hugging lampposts and laying up against buildings…Grace could barely distinguish between who was alive and who was dead.

"Grace", Floyd stepped up next to her, his hand resting on the small of her back.

She turned to him, seeing his stressed face gaze out, "you ok, Tab?" He nodded.

The men in the camp began to approach the troopers slowly now; grabbing at their clothing and hugging them.

Since Grace had removed her helmet, her hair easily gave her away as a woman. The men in the camp pointed to her and began crying; some came over and petted her, stroking her hair and face. Others staggered to her, held, and kissed her hands, her cheeks. They spoke in rapid and stuttered German, their voices broken and their eyes desperate.

It was beyond overwhelming.

She gave away her jacket to an old man, barely able to walk; she held her canteen to numerous lips. The signs were obvious, they had been starved and any medic should know that help should be given cautiously.

When her water ran out, she made her way over to Ron. He was standing with Dick, Lewis, Harry, Lip, and Lieb, who was translating. In front of them was a man who spoke in a trembling but sure voice. She came to a stop and stood next to Dick.

"He says the guards left them here", Joe said, speaking in German again. The man responded and he continued, "they burned some of the huts first…with the men still inside them…alive".

"Jesus Christ", Lew hissed.

The man spoke again, rubbing his head incessantly, "he says some of the men tried to stop them…some of them were killed…they didn't have enough ammo for all the prisoners…they killed as many as they could before they left the camp". The man began to shake as he gestured to the doors, "they locked the gate behind them and headed south."

Lew turned to Dick, his face grave, "someone in town must have told them we were coming". Grace's stomach turned at that fact…it was only thing that made sense…but, why? Why were these men here?

"Will you ask him…ask him what kind of camp this is", Dick instructed, "um…what…why are they here?"

After asking, Joe translated, "he says it's a work camp…for…I'm not sure what the word means, sir…um…unwanted, disliked maybe?"

"Criminals?" Ron offered gently.

Joe shook his head, "I don't think criminals, sir". He asked and the man shook his head, "no…doctors, musicians, tailors, clerks…normal people". The man said one word and Joe went stiff. "They're Jews", he whispered, "Poles, and gypsies." The man spoke rapidly again, this time looking absorbedly at Grace. From her periphery, she saw Ron gaze intently at her, then back at the man. The man walked forward, now crying and wailing as he cupped Grace's face and then walked away.

Dick grabbed Grace's hand and spoke, "Liebgott?"

Joe turned, shocked, "the women's camp is at the next railroad stop".

It was one horror after another. The small buildings were packed to the brim with crude bunk beds; men dead and alive were crammed in beside one another. A line of train cars in the back were abandoned there…inside them were the corpses of more prisoners.

In all her days at mass, all the stories of hell in bible, Grace had _never_ imagined something as atrocious as this.

She was about to go find Winters to inquire about how to get these men aid when Ron found her. "Grace", he called to her, walking to her fast. She turned to him and he was about to wrap his arms around her without thinking until his brain caught up with him. He stopped within inches of her, his hand coming to grab hers.

Seeing the intensity in his eyes, her vision blurred as the breath caught in her throat, "Ron", she whispered. He felt her grip on his hand tighten as she worked back a sob. Her breathing hiccupped then evened out as she fought the emotion.

"Grace, Speirs…Winters wants to know about getting these men some food", Lew announced, walking towards them.

She let go of Ron's hand and turned to Lew's approaching figure, "we can't", she said.

"What?" Ron inquired.

"We need to contact the battalion medical staff and doctors", she explained, "these men have been starved for so long…their bodies won't be able to digest our rations, they don't have the proper bacteria in their stomach anymore."

"You need to come with me", Lew requested. Grace nodded and walked forward to him, following him to where Dick was near the front gates. From beside her, Lew took her hand in his, "Can you believe this place?"

"No", she hushed, "it's unbelievable". They made it to the front to see the prisoners gathered around trucks. Inside, troopers were handing out bits of cheese and bread. "Looks like someone made the call for food". They walked to Winters, "Dick…you've got to listen to Grace here on this…"

"Grace, Dick…Lewis", they turned to Colonel Sink, who was exiting a jeep with another man, "what's going on here."

"Sir, Lieutenant Grant here has advised me that we need to stop feeding the prisoners", Lew informed him.

"Stop?" Dick asked, confused.

Grace nodded, "it's horrible, but we have to…their bodies have been starved for nutrients for so long, their stomachs lack the proper bacteria to break anything down…they could die from all this…any food or medicinal intake needs to be monitored."

"She's absolutely right", the man beside Sink spoke.

"This is Doctor Kemp, regimental doctor", Sink told them.

"The Lieutenant here is correct…they could eat themselves to death…we need to keep them here until we can find a place for them in town", Doctor Kemp said.

"Keep them _here_?" Grace asked.

"You want us to lock these people back up?" Lew shook his head.

Sink nodded solemnly, "we got no choice, Nix".

"Otherwise they might scatter", Kemp informed.

Grace sighed and nodded, "you need to keep them centralized so you can monitor their food intake and medical treatment".

"That's right", Kemp agreed, looking incredulously at her, "Why aren't you working for me?"

"Because she's too good a shot, Doc", Sink said, "Grace, why don't you stay with Doctor Kemp and help him for the remainder of the day…you'll be in charge of the medics. Dick, I need you to get a platoon over and down to the next train stop…we need to liberate the women's camp".

The jeep driver behind them held a phone receiver up, "Colonel Sink".

Sink nodded at them, "it's a cryin' shame, but we need to get it done".

"I don't like it any more than you guys", Kemp said. He turned to Grace, "once the other platoon is sent away and I get medic reinforcements, find me…and we'll do what we can for them today."

"Absolutely, Doctor Kemp".

He walked away and Grace, Lew and Dick looked to one another dejectedly. "Liebgott", Lew called out. He approached, "I need you to tell these men to get back inside the camp".

Joe shook his head, his eyes serious, "I can't do that, sir".

"You've got to, Joe", Dick softly ordered. Joe nodded and walked to a truck. "Christianson, grab Talbert and tell the men we've got to lock up these men again".

Grace turned and watched Joe over the sea of troopers and striped uniforms as he spoke in German from the truck. Her heart broke for him. She watched as he spoke, each new word resulting in a negative response from the men listening below. Joe's lip trembled as he finished speaking and Grace shut her eyes to the sounds of moaning from the men around her.

Ooooooooo

She remained at the camp for the rest of the day, until dusk. Winters had dispatched Speirs and a group of men to the women's camp.

Grace and Doctor Kemp worked together, Kemp used her to instruct and delegate tasks to the medics. They worked all day, removing the dead from barracks and doing what they could for the living. Kemp dismissed her and her medics when regimental medics showed up with adequate supplies; she got back to the town in which they were now staying, just after the sun went down.

After asking Vest, she located the building where her platoon was billeted.

She ran up the stairs by two, looking in every bedroom…most were vacant, the men were down grabbing grub. Eventually, she found him…Joe was alone in a bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub and looking out the window.

Wordlessly, she sat beside him and took his hand in hers, looking out the window with him. This was a man who she had known for years…he had been there for her when she needed it…and now she would be here for him.

Suddenly, Joe turned to her, his eyes desperate. Wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her towards him, he buried his face in her neck. She held him close, breathing evenly and feeling her collar dampen from his tears. She willed herself to remain strong for him, to let him weep.

After some time, he pulled away, his eyes puffy, "thank you for that, Gracie", he whispered.

"Of course", she promised.

Joe wasn't hungry, but after making him promise he would eventually go and grab something to eat later, Grace made sure he was alright and then she left, rigidly making her way outside and to company CP.

She needed a moment without having to be 'an officer'. She had not had the chance or the privacy to react properly to what they had all been through that day.

Making her way into CP and up the stairs, she _knew_ which room was his…he always chose the one in front with the largest windows, up the stairs, and to the left of the landing. He had his predictable moments.

She let herself in and noted that orderlies had already placed his things inside. Walking to a chair beside a desk, she grabbed his coat that was draped over the back. Bringing it up to her nose, she greedily inhaled his masculine scent, trying to rid her head of the smell of the camp.

Putting the coat back down and deciding to wait for him, she walked over to the bed and sat down facing the window. She acknowledged the irony…she had been in the same _physical _situation the night before, but the _emotional_ difference was staggering. She wondered what he had seen over at the women's camp…she couldn't imagine. Numbly, she felt tears stream down her face as she waited for him.

Ron had been pulled in many directions – emotional and physical – in one day. The most prevalent emotion, after seeing the women's camp, was complete desperation. He needed to see Grace, desperately.

The women in the camp were not much different from the men…all their heads were shaved, they wore tattered striped clothing, they had been walking skeletons.

He could not begin to imagine the agony of Grace being ripped from him – both of them thrown into separate camps, not knowing if one another were still alive.

Jumping out of the jeep once he took the men back to town, he headed directly to CP, knowing she would be there…or he would wait all night for her.

His heart pumping faster and his breathing hitching in anxiety, he made it to his room and opened the door swiftly.

There she was, safe and sound in his bed. She stood up at his presence and he strode towards her, his arms instantly enveloping her. He could always count on the relief he always felt when he touched her…what he didn't anticipate, however, was the overpowering sensation of fear that came over him once she was in his clutch.

It was as if Germans were pounding down the doors to come and take her away now…every single moment that she could have been taken from him played before his mind. D-Day, Carentan, the hedgerow, Market Garden, Bastogne, Foy, Hagenau…every traumatic and death-defying feat she had ever gone through flashed through him…and all he could do to make sure she was safe was to hold her, hold her tight to him.

He couldn't get enough, and before he knew it, her hands were around his shoulders, his face pressed tightly to her neck. Her skin was wet…_he was crying_. They were sitting on his bed and she was breathing deeply above him.

Moving up and pulling away, he gently cupped her face and pressed his forehead to hers, "Grace", he sighed, his fingers burning his fingerprints into her soul, "say you're mine. Please. Just once", his voice broke at his selfish request.

She understood; she would say it to him until the world ended, "yours…I'm yours".

Gently and silently, she stripped him down to his shirt, skivvies, and then stripped herself. She pulled down the covers to the bed and laid him down, then laid down beside him and curled herself around him.

"I love you…so much", he trembled.

She leaned to his mouth and kissed him softly, then stroked his face, "I love you too". She let him pull her firmly to his side, his hands grasping her waist. "I love you and I'm here with you…now sleep, a ghra mo chroi".

Closing his eyes, he began to relax with her in his arms.

He knew it in Toccoa, he felt it in France, he risked everything in Foy, he confessed it Rechamps – but now, it's entwined so deep in his soul: Grace Grant is the one and only woman on the planet for him…and he would spend the rest of his life and eternity surrendering himself solely to her.

**A ghra mo chroi = (ah graw muh kree) love of my heart**

**Let me know what you think.**

**xoxo**


	46. Chapter 46

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**THANK YOU to everyone who read, reviewed, and sent me wishes for my little dog; I truly appreciate it.**

**If anyone has ever seen the movie 'Perfect Sense', you'll recognize this song…and to all others who haven't seen the movie – it is incredible and life-changing as far as how it makes you see things. I'd recommend watching it alone or with someone you trust…and without booze. ANYWAYS – the song is called ****"Luminous" by Max Richter ****– it's beautiful and when I listen to it, I think of this story.**

**As always, enjoy…and drop me a line to let me know what you're thinking.**

Beneath the thin blankets, she shifted again in her sleep. Images and smells assaulted her senses and invaded her dreams.

Softly gasping, Grace awoke to find herself safe in bed with Ron and not back in the camp.

Catching her breath, she closed her eyes and attempted to quell the choking hysteria that woke her. Ron was still asleep and beside her, and sensing her move, his arm unconsciously dragged her body closer to his. Taking measured breathes; she looked outside the window to estimate the time. The sky was a mix of blue and pink, the sun had about an hour before it came out.

Even though Ron's heat could tether her physically to her own reality, her thoughts drifted directly to the men who had been locked back up in the camp. During the day, she had worked with medics and other troopers to remove the dead from the bunks so the men could have somewhere to sleep before they were relocated. For functionality purposes, it was rational…but emotionally, those dead bodies were the friends and family members of the men who had survived – and those survivors were still _locked up_ with the dead.

God, even if they had been evacuated, Grace could surmise they would remain mental prisoners until they received the mental care they needed.

Her breath hitched as she recalled a young man who had cradled the skeletal remains of what she assumed was his father. It had taken her half an hour to convince the young man to let him go so he could take a drink of water. It was near the end of her day, and after the young man let go of his father, he took hold of her and didn't let go until a battalion staff medical member came and took her place. The young man must have been around twenty years old or so…his eyes held the grief of a tortured soul who was much older. A hiccup escaped her, and Ron mumbled in his sleep.

She tried to snuggle into his warmth and close her thoughts off, remain in the _here_ and _now_, but she could not relax. She didn't want to disturb him, so she gently untangled her limbs from his and tucked the covers around his shoulders. She turned and padded to the en suite bathroom to take a shower, trying to control her breathing along the way.

Minutes later, Ron jerked forward, waking himself by grabbing for her figure that was no longer beside him. He blindly felt the blankets for her warmth, but found the bed cold; she must have gotten up about fifteen minutes ago. Sitting up, he blinked through the room and saw the dim light of the bathroom spilling out from under the closed door. Inside, the shower was running.

His experience in the camp had reopened a wound that never had the time to heal. The anxiety he felt yesterday rivaled that of their morning in Foy…when he was searching the buildings after they had taken the town…and every door he threw open, he was terrified as to what he would find. Coming back to her last night, he _needed_ her presence, _needed _her pressed up against him to prove she was here and safe. She was a balm to him, and as much as he hated to admit it, his heart hadn't had the proper time with her to move on.

Flinging the blankets back and getting up from the bed, Ron stripped off his shirt, opened the bathroom door silently, and gazed in, not wanting to startle Grace.

The glass door of the shower was splashed with water and slightly fogged, but he could clearly see her standing still under the stream of heat, her arms wrapped around her stomach and her shoulders shaking slightly.

Ron's heart fell through his body, and in reaction, he knew he needed to be with her and she needed someone to hold her and tell her everything was going to be alright. Kicking off his boxers, he reached forward and slid the door open.

Alarmed, Grace looked up, her panicked expression softening as her eyes fell on his concerned features. He kept his gaze trained on hers as he stepped into the warm shower and gently gathered her body into his arms. Sighing a breath he didn't know he was holding, he held her beneath the water, his back to the spray and let her softly cry into his chest.

Her hands came to rest on his stomach as her mind numbed over, rendering her breathless and tired.

They remained like that for a few minutes, their breathing mirrored and their bodies pressed together with the warm water acting as their cocoon. With one hand remaining around her waist, Ron brought his other hand up and stroked the back of her hair, then down the curve of her back. Grace hummed in pleasure as he repeated the motion over and over.

She had imagined what a shared shower with Ronald Speirs would be like before…and while her versions were _different_, this certainly wasn't unpleasant. If fate was on her side, she would have the rest of her life to shower with him and attempt every scenario.

"I would ask if you're ok, but I'm not sure there's a good response to that anymore", Ron murmured.

She knew there was no appropriate answer to that very valid question. Not interested in wading into the melancholy just yet, Grace turned her face upwards towards his and pressed a kiss to his chest, "right _here_, I'm perfect". She sighed and rested her cheek against his heart, "thank you", and then she smirked, "_this _was a very bold move, Captain Speirs".

He smirked back and held her tighter against him, "well, Lieutenant Grant, it was a chance I was willing to take…even if it ended with me nursing a black eye".

"I would never do that to you", she promised, "I could never hit a face so flawless".

"Flawless", he scoffed critically, and then his voice dipped low as he grew serious after a minute, "I need to apologize, love".

"Whatever for?"

"For my reaction…after you told me about Nixon", he articulated, "I'm so sorry".

Grace shook her head, pulling away slightly to look at his face, "it's alright – "

"No, it wasn't", he gently interrupted her, "the truth is…I get jealous easily, always have. Ever since Toccoa…even when I couldn't say your name out loud, I spent way too much time glaring at any man who received too much of your attention."

"You shouldn't have worried", she began, placing another kiss on his chest, "you're mine".

"I want to be yours, but I want you to know my faults too", he sighed as she kissed him again.

"Well go on then".

"I get jealous because what's mine is _mine_. I'm stubborn as hell and I don't know how to express myself all the time. I act like I don't give a fuck because I care too much. I over-analyze the smallest things…and I know I come off as aggressive but I do it to guard myself and protect who I love", he confessed.

"I've spent _years_ talking a big game and having to put my money where my mouth was so no one would question why a woman was in the Army. I get jealous too…because I'm scared that I can't hold onto anything good. I procrastinate. I should stop smoking…and I am terrified of what will become of me when the war is over", she whispered to him.

"When the war is over, you'll be with me", he insisted, "and we'll start a life together".

The moment to ask had presented itself, so she took the chance, "what if you don't like what I am?"

He frowned, "how is that even possible?"

She looked down, focusing on the hollow of his neck, "you've only known me in the service…I am completely unsure as to how people will see me once we get back. Women are working right now for the war effort back home…but I'll bet you that they'll be expected to quit once we've won this thing and come home." She looked back up to his patient and understanding expression, "you need to know that I _am_ a girly-girl, you know…I like to dress up and all that…but I do not see myself as just a skirt who can make a drink, you know? Um…."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I don't know what you expect me to be when we get home", she declared.

His eyes took on a protective sheen, "I expect you to be _happy_. I want us to be happy. I expect you to tell me if you're _not _happy. Nothing changes", he shrugged and corrected himself, "well, apart from being in a uniform, carrying a weapon and getting shot at". He smirked as he produced a smile from her. "I've told you before, and I will tell you forever…I love you for you. I love that you drink whiskey and you can fire a gun. I love that you look good in men's boxers _and _sexy dresses", she laughed and he grinned, "what I've found in you…I don't think a man could get any luckier".

"I love you", she stated seriously, then smiled, "and I love that you're protective and that you care too much. I love that you would loot a _stationary_ store if the shop-keep went missing for five minutes." He laughed against her, "I love that you hold me when you sleep and I _love _the way you say my name".

"I love you, Grace Grant", he husked as his hands gripped her hips and mouth claimed hers.

With his lips on hers, she suddenly felt _everything _of his pressed against her. She cupped his face and jaw in her hands as she opened her mouth to him. His tongue slipped into her mouth and she sighed into the kiss, her stomach dropping erotically as she gently fisted his wet hair.

Suddenly the water went stark cold.

"Jesus Christ", she hissed as Ron attempted to shield her from the cold water. She opened the door and held her hand out to him as he climbed out.

He retrieved two towels from the nearby rack and wrapped her in the first one, "you ok?" She nodded as they each dried one another off, "it's just as well", he began sincerely, "this is not the time, nor the place." She secured the towel around her chest as he dropped his to the floor and wrapped his arms around her waist, speaking in a deep tone, "but soon…once we have a day or weekend leave…I will be throwing you into a room and losing the key".

He kissed her softly and pulled away, a soft smile was on her face, "I believe you".

Oooooooooo

After dressing, downing a cup of burnt coffee, and getting the next series of orders and plans from Dick and Lewis, Grace made her way over to her men's building to relay the message.

The smell of coffee, cigarettes, and shaving cream permeated the air in the large main room of the house where the men had gathered while waiting for orders. In the back of her mind, Grace knew she would forever link these smells to her men and this time in her life…it was curious as to how _comforting _they were.

"Morning Gracie", Joe acknowledged her as she entered the room silently, followed by morning greetings from the rest of the men.

"Lieutenant, care for some coffee?" Bull inquired.

"No thank you, Bull, I'm ok", she nodded, smiling softly. She detected a soft somberness that swirled about the room. She knew they were all dreading going back to the camp. She was happy to tell them their orders were the opposite. "It's 0830 hours now…orders are we move out at noon."

"Are we going back…" Don asked tentatively, the men's eyes boring into her after he spoke.

"No", she responded, "Easy is to oversee a civilian cleanup of rubble in a nearby town. We'll be there for the rest of the day as a physical presence for the civilians." Taking a moment to appreciate their relieved faces, she continued, "I'm sure you'll want to know what the plan is for the camp we liberated…General Taylor and Battalion staff spoke with the locals here and everyone is denying knowledge of camp", the men rolled their eyes and scoffed as Grace nodded, "I know…well, they'll be getting an education today. General Taylor has declared Martial Law, ordering any able-bodied person from age fourteen to eighty to help bury the dead. They'll be monitored by the 10th Armored."

"Jesus, an education is right", Frank agreed.

"What exactly was that place?" Tab asked, shaking his head.

"They're still trying to figure that out", she shrugged, "Hitler has a long list of enemies and bizarre ideals…what we _do _know is that this hasn't been the only one discovered. The Russians reported one that was worse…apparently ten times as large." The men shifted in response and Grace wondered if she should say something to soothe them; their silence screamed that they needed to hear something positive. She spoke in a careful voice, "what we were witness to yesterday was an absolute atrocity…but it was also an incredible display of human power. The victims, all those men, women, and children were nothing but a means to an end for the Nazi regime. But the _survivors _who will go on and live after this event are more powerful than the men who put them in that camp." She took a breath and looked over her men, the boys who she had known through life, death and everything in between. "I don't know what will be revealed behind all this death…but I _do _know that the vast majority of people on this planet stand against darkness, and that it goes _beyond _religion or creed or nation. We wouldn't be here still if humanity were inherently evil. So when you see violence, hatred, bigotry, and any of that…you have to look it in the eye and think 'The good will outnumber you, and we _always _will'". Humbled to feel the energy in the room shift upwards and see a few misty gazes on her she nodded and smiled, grabbing her rifle strap, "make sure your things and yourselves are outside when it's time to go".

Hearing good natured grumbles in response and the clanking of tin mugs, rifles and gear, Grace took a cleansing breath and walked outside.

Oooooooooo

Hours later, they had reached a broken town, decimated by bombs and fire. The air surrounding them was just as dusty and drab as the civilians shifting in the rubble below and smelt of campfires.

Grace shook her head slightly, how many towns had she seen that had been dismantled into a pile of gray brick, dirt and stone? The destruction was a visible, touchable thing that mirrored the fractured souls who had lived through this war. She wondered if people back home, seeing these images in newspapers and magazines, would ever really appreciate what it was like and how it felt. She sat in between Bull and Webster in a blown out second story building, overseeing the cleanup.

George walked into their group, producing a fresh pack of cigarettes. All the men but Bull, who was working on his usual cigar, silently helped themselves to one, "Gracie?" George offered. She studied the little white tubes packed neatly into the small box and promised herself _this _would be the last cigarette she would have if the fight ended. If she never had to use her weapon again against an enemy, she would quit.

"Thank you, George", she whispered.

"Don't mention it, doll", he said, holding a light to her lips. As she took a long drag, a group of German civilians began to play a song on strings. Grace closed her eyes to the aching tune as she exhaled, determined to burn this moment into her memory. The music was a welcome balm to her raw nerves. "I'll tell you one thing about the Krauts, they sure clean up good", George remarked, his face turned back out to the view.

"All you need is a little Mozart", Joe quipped.

Grace opened her mouth to correct him politely, but Lew stepped out onto their ledge and beat her to it, "Beethoven".

"Sir?" Joe frowned.

"That's not Mozart, it's Beethoven", he grumbled out, his eyes scrutinizing the working civilians. Grace was studying his contemplative face as he turned and looked at her, his eyes absorbent and serious, "Hitler's dead", he announced.

"Holy shit", Joe drawled.

"Shot himself in Berlin". Lew held Grace's gaze as her expression went from surprised to quiet contemplation.

Beside her, Bull spoke, "does this mean the war's over, sir?"

"No", Lew spat with distain, "we have orders to go to Berchtesgaden, we move out in one hour.

"Why, the man's not home", Web joked humorlessly. As Grace stood up and the men all turned to leave, he continued, "should have shot himself three years ago and saved us a lot of trouble".

"Yeah he should of", Lew agreed confidently, "…but he didn't".

With the men gone, Grace turned to Lew, "you alright?"

He shrugged and shook his head, "I don't know anymore…but I'll get better Gracie-girl…we'll all get better". They smiled softly at one another, silent understanding passing between them. With that, he turned and left her alone.

Grace turned back to the scene before her and placed the cigarette to her lips; the music still playing below coming to its crescendo and end, the crackling sound of fire and shuffling footsteps adding ambience and a different tone. Closing her eyes to the throbbing and painful sound of the piece, she sighed, her and her men were about to enter into the Lion's den…where Hitler once lived and presided over his realm.

God willing, this would all be over soon.

**I paraphrased a small excerpt written by Patton Oswalt following the attack in Boston this year for Grace's statement to her men. I'm adding this just as a small disclaimer :-)**

**I have no idea how many more chapters there will be….but I'm sure you all know – we have entered into the last episode of the series. There is much more to come…but I can't believe we gotten through nine parts already.**

**THANK YOU to everyone who has read, followed, reviewed, favorite'd, and stuck with me thus far….I truly appreciate it.**

**Xoxo**


	47. Chapter 47

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Profound apologies for the delay in this update. **

**This has been the most tumultuous couple months of my life. As you know, my puppy had to be put down…and last week, my Grandfather passed away. Three weeks after being diagnosed with cancer, he couldn't fight it. He was the grandparent I was closest to and it came as quite a shock. Also, I was out of the country on an adventure-holiday. It was exhausting but wonderful. **

**And now, after all the stress and travel and **_**everything**_**, I'm sick. Figures. Haha whatever. Life goes on, doesn't it? Odd how that happens. **

**THANK YOU so much for sticking with me and reading and loving this story as much as I have. Thank you so very much.**

MAY 1945 Bavaria

"God Damnit", Ron hissed beside her, stopping the jeep and turning off the engine.

Grace opened her eyes, suddenly forgetting the sun warming her face. Taking one look at the massive roadblock made of gigantic boulders, she laughed ironically, "oh Jesus". Around them, the other jeeps and trucks had all stopped, men jumping from the confines of the trucks to stretch.

"Fuckin' Hitler", Harry groaned from behind them in the back of the jeep.

"Would _you _let the enemy reach your house that easily?" Lip asked from beside Welsh.

"Fair play to you, Lip – well said", Grace nodded, sitting up and stretching slightly in her seat.

"I'm with Harry…fuck Hitler", Ron declared, "how are we gonna break through this thing?"

"Where are the engineers when you need them?" Lip lamented, offering a hand to Grace as she stepped out of the jeep.

"If they're the same lot who forced those leg bags on us on D-Day, then we're never reaching the top first", Harry groaned.

Ron shook his head, coming to a stop beside Grace, "I don't like this…I want us to be the first, no one else…especially not the French."

Lew interjected, calling the four officers over to the jeep he shared with Dick, "hey…any ideas?"

Slipping her hands into her pockets, Grace shrugged, "we could try to blast through it. I can't see how that would actually work, but it'd be fun".

"You just want to try your hand at that bazooka one last time, huh Angel?" Harry joked as Grace arched her brow in his direction, smirking.

"I say have at it", Dick smiled, "we're stuck here until the engineers get here anyway – it couldn't hurt". Shrugging, the Major tilted his helmet back and closed his eyes to the sun, clearly intent on sunning himself while he could.

Ron turned to her and grinned, "you're in charge of the assault, Lieutenant, assemble your team".

Grace returned the smile fully, not seeing Harry and Lip's knowing smirks as Ron winked at her, "you got it, Captain". She made her way over to the trucks, which had stopped behind the jeeps. Locating her men jumping from one of them, she bounded over and called out, "who wants to play with grenades and a bazooka?"

"Feeling randy today, eh Lieutenant?" George snaked.

Grace bit back a laugh as she shook her head, "never feeling that when I'm in _your _presence, darling".

"Oh, ouch", he laughed back, grabbing at his heart as the men laughed with him.

"You asking that have anything to do with that mountain of boulders over there?" Janovec inquired.

"That's exactly why I'm asking", she nodded, "we've been given the distinct opportunity to blow our way to the top…and although I'm sure it won't work, Major Winters thinks this is a fine excuse to waste some explosives; so who's in?"

Quickly assembling a group of eager privates and a few sergeants, Grace sent them off under the watchful eye of Bull. Making her way back to the jeeps, she surveyed the men making themselves comfortable to converse and watch the explosives in action.

Nostalgia tugged at her heart as she thought of how far they had all managed to come in a year's time. Last May, Grace had just been brought to Upottery after being at the hospital for so long; the men were all preparing for their first jump, Ron had given her the compass that still hung around her neck. They hadn't had their first kiss yet. The war had not yet begun for them; a number of men who remained close to her heart where no longer there with them now.

How extraordinary…how the world could alter so dramatically in a few months, in a calendar year.

Where on earth would they all be next year?

BOOM!

The explosion was a good one and the sound of it echoed down the steep mountainside; the surrounding men's sounds of approvals followed with some laughter and mild applause.

Grace squinted through the sun and the wafting dust to see the damage the grenades and the bazooka had made….nothing apart from a dark singe mark and some pebbles. Sighing, she shrugged and watched as the group of men animatedly gathered more grenades to set up another explosion.

Turning discreetly over her shoulder, her eyes located Ron still standing with Harry and Lip. He looked over to see her and smirked back at her expression, gesturing her over to them.

As Grace walked over, Ron turned to Dick, "if you're looking for another way up that mountain, Easy Company is ready and willing."

Dick smirked, nodding once, "duly noted, I already recommended you to Colonel Sink".

Grace could _feel_ the satisfaction in Ron's stance, "terrific", he turned to Grace, beginning to walk away, "let's go find out where Hitler lived".

"Ron?" Dick interrupted him, "we're not sure what's up there, the Colonel doesn't want us taking any unnecessary risks".

Ron sighed, disappointed, "so the French are gonna beat us to the Eagle's Nest?"

A jeep pulled up sharply containing Colonel Sink, and Ron put his arm in front of Grace, walking them backwards and away from the oncoming vehicle. "Kids, I just had a conversation with General Clerke…he told me he was first into Paris and by-God he was gonna be first into Berchtesgaden." BOOM! The men had exploded another round into the boulders in front of them. Sink continued, "I told him I understood his predicament", he took a drag of his cigarette and nodded, looking to Dick, "now you fire up second battalion and outflank that French son of bitch".

Grace smiled in victory, Ron nodding beside her. "Yes sir", Dick confidently obeyed. They all saluted Sink as his jeep started and drove away. Grace and Ron walked forward with Harry to hear Dick's orders, "I want Easy Company in the lead, have the rest of the men assemble on the autobahn".

"Yes sir", Ron agreed amicably. He then turned to Grace, "Grace, Harry…gather the men".

"Yes sir", Harry and Grace nodded together.

She jogged over to her men, "alright, good effort men…new orders…we're taking the Eagle's Nest before anyone else can get to it. Be on the look-out when we get there…we don't know who's left up there." Smiling at their eager faces, she clapped her hands together, "let's go!"

Ooooooooo

Crouched in the back of a jeep with Harry, they drove up and into the vacant and deserted town.

The only sound apart from the purr of the engines and the men's boots were the soft cracking of the starched white flags hanging from all the windows.

The small 'town' itself was picturesque; a stereotypical version of a German village – white buildings with colored shutters stacked alongside the cobblestone road. Textured lattices decorated the doorways and flower boxes and manicured shrubs adorned the windows.

Looking ahead of them, Grace made out her men in second platoon; she watched as they held their weapons in front of them and their heads swiveled around, taking in the odd sight of this pristine war-village that was a near time capsule.

"Eerie", Harry noted, "not even any natives".

"That's because this is the one town where you can't deny being a true Nazi", Lew answered from the driver's seat.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well you have to be to live here", Grace chimed in as Lew nodded.

"We need to find some place we can put the Colonel", Dick said.

"How about right _there_", Lew smirked, pressing the accelerator and heading forward into the center of the town.

In front of them was a large stone building, ornamented with the long, large red banners with the Nazi swastika emblazoned on them. A large sign was hung above the doorway that read 'Berchtesgaden Hof'. _Hotel, _Grace translated inwardly. She jumped out of their jeep and followed behind Lew, Dick, and Harry inside.

The large foyer was cool and smelled of wood and varnish. To her right was a bust of Hitler and Grace found herself glowering at it as the sound of their jump boots echoed off the high ceilings.

In front of her was the sound of scuffling and something hit the floor with a clang. "No, no", Lew's voice rang out apathetically. She about to walk faster to investigate when Ron came behind her and held her arm, stopping her; she turned to him and saw his protective stance and concentrated features, glaring towards a desk. Looking back, Grace saw Lewis taking a guestbook of records from a German man who obviously worked at the hotel. The man glared at Lewis then back to Ron and Grace before walking to the back room.

"Even though this war is practically over, I still don't trust them", Ron breathed beside her, releasing her arm. Grace smiled softly at him and continued walking further into the hotel, following Harry, her rifle carefully held in front of her.

They ventured through an impressive doorway that led into a grand and opulent dining room. Floor to ceiling windows lined the walls, showing off the expansive view. The light from outside reflected off the glassware immaculately placed on the tables, sending refractions glittering on the walls and off her BDU's.

"Wow", Harry groaned, his voice echoing in the empty room.

CRASH!

Dick, Harry, and Grace looked to their right…a lone waiter who was polishing silver had spotted them and dropped what he was doing and ran.

"Jesus", Grace whispered at the man's desperation to get out.

Harry stalked straight ahead to the cabinet and opened it, taking off his helmet to fill it up with the contents, "Kitty would love this…how many brides get a wedding present from Hitler?" Grace smirked, wondering when Ron would wander in here and always enjoying Harry's enthusiasm for his girl, Kitty. "You wanna take half?" Harry asked Dick who had stopped next to him, "I can't carry all of this". Grace kept walking further into the room, her eyes skipping over the familiar scene of fine dining. She grew contemplative then, imagining the grand parties that no doubt had taken place here, years before her involvement with the war…and after. How many bottles of fine champagne had the Nazi's gone through while her and her brothers were dying for their freedom and the freedom of others…she suddenly had the intense urge to throw one of the crystal glasses against the wall. "I'd offer some to you, Angel, but I think we _all _know you're already taken care of", Harry teased her lightly.

Grace turned and smiled to Harry and Dick, "don't know what you're talking about".

"Yeah, yeah", Harry chuckled. "You know whoever comes in here after is just going to take what isn't nailed down".

Dick took his helmet off too and dived in, "well, I wouldn't want that to happen", he responded sarcastically, Harry giggling at his answer.

Behind them, Ron emerged with an empty bag in his hand, Malarkey and Moore with him. Ron spotted Grace, then immediately zeroed in on what Harry and Dick were doing. He walked forward and reached in with them, "nice…"

Harry's hand snapped to Ron's arm, stopping him, "don't even think about it".

From her spot, Grace giggled openly at the look on Ron's handsome face. Ron looked up, alarmed but amused at Harry as Dick looked on with enjoyment.

Ron stalked over to her, smirking darkly, "no dice, huh?" she murmured.

He stopped beside her and chuckled, "don't need that…I've already picked up silver cutlery anyway", he winked at her and leaned forward to grab up an assortment of different silver trinkets from a serving set.

"Major Winters, sir", Alton spoke, an eager look on his face.

"Moore".

"Sir, uh…permission to climb the mountain, the Eagle's Nest, sir".

"What is this?" Harry mused, holding up an odd piece of silver.

"Harry", Dick began, "have F Company put a double guard on the hotel, set up roadblocks on the west side of town, I want Battalion HQ over there and sealed off to prepare for any prisoners."

Harry nodded and turned, "Sergeant Malarkey…"

"And Harry", Dick added, "nobody gets hurt…not now".

Riiiiiiip!

The group looked over to Ron, who had ripped a Nazi banner from the wall. "And Easy?" he asked.

"Easy will head up the mountain…and take the Eagle's Nest", Winters nodded.

Oooooooooo

"High ho silver!"

Grace laughed from her spot in the jeep with Ron, Harry, Lew, and Dick. Squished in between Ron and Harry, she turned onto her left leg and looked to their rear, up onto the hill above them: half of her platoon had chosen to run up the hill instead of riding in the trucks, as homage to Toccoa and Currahee.

They were laughing and pushing one another and hollering out to the rest of the men in the trucks, "Currahee!"

"Six miles up!" Tab shouted from the truck behind them.

"Six miles down!" The rest of the men parroted back spiritedly.

"Thank God it's not nearly as hot as Georgia", Lew said from the front seat.

"Agreed, Nix", Dick affirmed.

Silently, Grace couldn't help but think she couldn't have cared if it was _hotter_ than Georgia…her and her men had made it to Germany, to Hitler's crowning jewel of his doomed empire. They were here, and alive. Smiling at the men's laughter and the sun on her face, Grace stealthily reached down to Ron's arm, blindly feeling her way down to his hand. Ron's eyes turned to her, a soft smile gracing his features as her small hand slipped into his open palm and squeezed.

Ooooooooo

Once they reached the top, Ron ordered Grace, Don, Popeye and Alton to accompany him into the main room of the nest.

Out in front, Grace had her side arm securely in her palm as she and Malarkey opened the double doors leading to the lookout room and balconies.

With Alton holding his rifle in firing position, Grace opened the doors and stalked quietly inside, her eyes searching the round room for any Nazi in sight.

The stone room was quiet and smelled of a wood fire and whiskey. An obvious room used for late night meetings and small soirées, the room was decorated with plush armchairs and low cocktail tables; a large fireplace took up one wall while windows lined the rest.

Ron walked out in front of them, his sidearm in front of him, his gaze turned outward to the windows, wearing a contemplative expression. He turned and watched as Grace made her way to the right, then stopped suddenly next to an overturned table, her face downcast. Frowning, he walked to her then stopped, seeing a dead SS Officer lying at her feet, a gunshot through his head.

"We can expect this kind of discovery all over here", Grace whispered as Ron knelt down and picked up the discarded luger from the floor.

POP!

Grace jumped at the sound, gasping as Don walked leisurely over, an uncorked champagne bottle dripping in his hand.

Ron openly glared at him as he toasted the bottle, "here's to him", he said, taking a swig. Grace swiped the bottle and took a drink before handing it back to Don and walking over to Alton as Ron walked to where the full champagne bottles were stacked.

"Gracie…check this out", Alton murmured, leafing through a photo album. She focused in on Hitler's image…smiling out on a balcony, shaking Officer's hands, and leading marches.

"Is that…?" she hushed.

He nodded, "yeah, I think this is the man's personal album". Grace squinted at the pictures meticulously glued and placed on each page. "I'd better hide it from Sparky, huh?"

Grace shrugged, "just take it…if you don't, he will".

"What if he finds out about it?" Alton asked, uncharacteristically nervous.

She looked up to his face, "you lie…just lie about having it. He can't prove you have it…shove it in your bag", she picked up the album and handed it over to Alton quickly as Ron emerged, carrying bottles of champagne.

"Lieutenant Grant? I need to see you…important matter", Ron declared. Smiling to Moore, she winked and followed Ron out of the room.

She followed him to the opposite side of the nest, where the large balcony was. Stepping down and outside to the cool air, she took note of the lounge chairs along the side…she recognized this place – one of the pictures in Alton's album had been taken here.

Walking further, she turned to the spectacular view, goose bumps breaking out over her skin at the sight, "important matter, Captain?"

"The utmost importance, Lieutenant", his deep voice breathed out. She turned to him, "remember when we said that we'd share a bottle of champagne with each other when we got the chance?" Grace smiled fully and nodded to him, "well I've got six bottles here."

Laughing, she sauntered over to him and placed her arms around his waist as he lined up all the bottles, "well, we better crack 'em open and make sure they're still good".

Leaning down and kissing her softly, he nodded, "agreed". He handed her a bottle and took one for himself, "since I forgot the glassware…"

POP!

POP!

They laughed together as they each popped one. She turned to him, stepping close, "cheers, Captain Speirs".

"Cheers to _you_, love". They held their gazes as they each took a healthy swig. Grace's eyes fell to his lips as he smiled; they leaned closer to one another…

"There they are!" Harry declared, bursting onto the balcony with a smug Lewis, "I knew you'd already have some champagne up here."

"We just happened to bring more", Lew added, his hands full.

"Mind if we sit down?" Harry asked nonchalantly as he made himself comfortable on the end of one of the lounges.

Oooooooooo

Grace sat, her ankles crossed on one lounge with Harry at her feet, and Lew was lying on the other with Ron sitting on the end of his. Between them, five empty bottles of champagne lay discarded, and one half-full bottle of whiskey stood nearby.

Giggling, Grace shook her head at Lewis, who was drunkenly trying to name off Hitler's chain of command.

"No, God damnit, listen", he called out, Harry and Grace laughing at his impatience. "Hitler, Hitler…no…"

"You're never gonna be able to name them _all_, Jesus", Ron scoffed.

Lew's voice rose above Harry and Grace's sarcastic remarks, "Hitler, Himmler, Goering…Goebbles…"

"Gobbles?" Harry barked.

Grace and Ron laughed, the officer's raucous guffaws drowning out the conversation. "You're not going to get them all…I can't pronounce their stupid names", Grace shrugged, taking another pull from her champagne.

"Ye of little faith, Gracie-bird", Lew shook his head.

"Oh Jesus", she laughed.

"What do you bet he can do it, Angel?" Harry wagered.

"I'm not betting anything", she smiled, "I _know_ he can't".

"That hurts right _here_", Lew pointed to his heart on the wrong side of his chest.

"Hey Adolf!" Harry exclaimed, standing up and gesturing to Dick, who had walked in with Lipton, "I love the Eagle's Nest…I hope you don't mind, we made ourselves at home", hugging Dick, Harry grinned. "Love what you've done with the place", he reached down and grabbed his champagne bottle, "here…have a drink, just so's we can say we saw you do it, huh?"

"Listen up", Dick began, smirking and ignoring Harry's offering. The group of them chuckled as Dick unfolded a paper, "from HQ, effective immediately, all troops stand fast on present position".

Harry grunted and stood taller, "standing fast", Lew spoke.

Dick laughed, "wanna hear it?" Harry grunted, nodding, "yeah?...ready for it?...listen up: German Army surrendered". Stunned silence met his words, and Dick smiled. "I got a present for you, come with me", he spoke to Lew, who got up and followed him out, a shocked expression on his face.

Grace dropped the champagne bottle, now empty, as she looked to Ron. He was looking intently right back at her, his heart pounding at the news: the war in Europe was over. The war was over…and the weight of his bars lifted off his shoulders in that brief moment as he looked at her…the woman that he loved.

"Grace", he whispered softly. At once, they both stood up and she was in his arms, her hands in his hair as he kissed her passionately, tasting champagne. He felt her press against him; her body flush with his as his arms grasped her impossibly closer. "God, I love you", he murmured into their kiss, hearing her agreeing sigh.

"Jesus Christ almighty", Harry drawled from nearby. Grace had forgotten they weren't alone. Her face burned from embarrassment as Ron stilled his movements slowly, seemingly unbothered as he kept his arms around her waist. "I fuckin' knew it", Harry sighed. Grace smiled at Lip's wide eyes and turned her face back to Ron's to read his expression. He simply kept his gaze on Harry, daring him to say something.

"Always knew you'd be a good-lookin' couple", Lip smirked and shrugged.

Harry nodded and turned back to Ron, pointing awkwardly, "you hurt her and you're dead".

"Jesus", Grace laughed lightly.

Ron held her tighter as he nodded to Harry, "I wouldn't dream of it", he answered seriously.

"Good", Harry nodded again as Lip pushed him towards the door, "carry on then". Grace turned to Ron, smiling fully and feeling light headed as Ron pressed his lips to hers again. From the doorway as they were walking out, Harry spoke again, "as if I couldn't miss Kitty any more than I already did".

**Tell me what you think! There is more on the way soon, I SWEAR TO IT…much, much more.**

**Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**


	48. Chapter 48

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and messaged me…I appreciate it more than you know. Xoxoxoxo **

_LAST TIME:_

_Ron held her tighter as he nodded to Harry, "I wouldn't dream of it", he answered seriously._

_ "Good", Harry nodded again as Lip pushed him towards the door, "carry on then". Grace turned to Ron, smiling fully and feeling light headed as Ron pressed his lips to hers again. From the doorway as they were walking out, Harry spoke again, "as if I couldn't miss Kitty any more than I already did"._

Ron pushed her lightly backwards, causing her to giggle into their kiss. In the back of her mind, she tried to calculate the amount of alcohol they had managed to consume in record time…certainly enough to keep Lip and Harry from caring to tell anyone what they saw. Sitting them both down on the lounge chair with their legs entwined, Ron kept one arm wound around her waist while the other held her face to his. Grace smiled into the kiss, realizing this was the first time they were truly _making out. _Her stomach fluttered at the familiar and nearly civilian-like term as the champagne swirled about her head.

How long had it been, using and practicing such a _normal_ phrase like that…it had been years. She had been closely involved in this war now for five years, everyday words and actions - things that tied her back home to that life – had no use…until now. The war in Europe was _over_…hopefully the conflict in the Pacific will finish soon and it will all end once and for all.

_The German Army surrendered_…the war in Europe was over. Smiling again into their kiss, Grace shivered as Ron dragged his fingers through her hair, kissing down her neck.

"Happy VE Day", he husked into her ear, still holding her close.

"Victory in Europe", she mused quietly, concentrating on the feather-light touch of his lips on her jaw. She dragged her fingertips down the stubble on his face, "for as long as we were in it, I don't think I ever actually imagined hearing the news".

"No?" he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"No".

"What _did _you imagine?" he asked absently, grazing his lips along her cheek.

She shrugged, leaning into him, "it was always _after_…what it would be like to go home, I guess". Ron leaned down and began planting careful kisses along her neck once more. Grace shivered again and she felt him smile against her skin, "although…I _have _imagined _this_". She shifted, pulling herself closer, kissed his cheek, then placed her lips to his temple, "have you?"

Softly groaning as he felt her eyelashes flutter against his brow, he kissed up her jaw and stopped right at her lips, grinning like a predator at her, "oh God, yes…this and more".

She smiled back, playfully tugging his full bottom lip with her teeth before kissing him tenderly, "you'll have to show me…", she whispered against his mouth. He groaned and slipped his hands to her hips, "…show me…over and over and over…"

"With _pleasure_", he whispered back.

She sighed and pressed her lips to his cheek, enjoying the scratchy tickle, "we can't say we got caught", she mused, referring to what Harry and Lip saw, "but I can't believe I didn't even _think_ of them in front of us".

"You and me, both", he smirked, "they're just jealous".

She snorted, "yep, that's it….you're full of champagne".

"You think I'm kidding? The entire battalion has a crush on you…and you're all mine", his eyes glinted mischievously. Grace scoffed and Ron shrugged, "I'm serious…you should see the dirty looks I get when I'm seen merely _walking_ next to you". He ducked his head down, breathing deeply into her neck, "…if they could see me now…" His voice vibrated as his hot breath grazed over her collarbone, sighing, Grace gently lifted his face up to hers and slid her lips over his parted ones.

"I would prefer them _not_ to", she husked after a minute, her lips brushing over his as she spoke, visualizing the men's prying eyes on them in this moment. "I'm not much into voyeurism", she smirked.

She could feel his deep chuckle in her chest, "merely an expression…you're crazy if you think I'd let them see _you_", his tenor shifted from playful to lustful as his lips grazed hers, "…see you _compromised_…"

"Compromised?" she swallowed.

He simply nodded, "mmm, yes", his hands made a trail from her hips down her thighs and back up, "…moaning and naked beneath me". His lips hovered over hers and he grew bolder as he heard her breath catch, "…your beautiful voice calling my name out over and over. I have thought of every way to take you, love…" Grace's jaw had fallen slack and her heart hammered and dropped to her stomach at Ron essentially _talking dirty_ to her. He smirked and bit his lip as she tried to kiss him.

"That's not fair", she whispered, her hands running through his hair, her voice breathless; she felt hypnotized, her eyes were transfixed on his perfect lips.

"I never said I was fair", he murmured, "plus, if my instinct is right, it's just about time to head down to the courtyard for Winters' orders".

Grace laughed, pain etched into her tone, "you're going to talk to me like _that_…then…oh, come on…" She shook her head playfully at his smug face, "you're proud of yourself", she declared.

His eyebrow quirked, "is that obvious?" She laughed and he continued, "I've managed to render you speechless…of course I'm proud".

Extracting her limbs from his and standing up from the lounge chair, she held her hand out to Ron and smiled as his fingers wove in with hers, "you win this round, Captain Speirs".

Oooooooooooo

"Listen up!" Winters' voice called out over the still troopers, he had corralled Easy Company apart from the others, "I want to be the first official to congratulate you and say Happy VE Day. We've all been at this for a long time…and I'm proud to call you my battalion and my first company." Standing at formation beside Harry, Lipton, Foley, and Peacock, Grace smiled to herself at Dick's words. She could _feel _the anticipation and joy reeking from her men behind her. "Colonel Sink has seen it fit to give each company a thirty six hour pass", before the men could get too boisterous, he added, "all of you will be expected for roll call tomorrow morning at 0900 and none of you are allowed into the surrounding villages…the pass extends only in this vicinity." Smirking and nodding at the group he finished up, "report to your platoon leaders for your billet assignments…dismissed".

At his dismissal, the men began hollering and laughing, congratulating one another all around.

"Gracie!" George called out, grabbing her roughly and hugging her tight.

"George!" Tab yelled, running to them, "Grace! It's over!" Grace laughed into their jumbled hug.

"Can you believe it?" Christianson grinned to her as soon as Tab and George let her go.

"We made it", Moore laughed as he grabbed her and spun her around. Grace called out and laughed with him, feeling lightheaded. All around them, the men had begun what was sure to be a legendary celebration. As Moore placed her back on her feet and kissed her cheek, Grace found herself slightly shaking her head at the scene. They had lived through it. From Toccoa to Berchtesgaden - they saw it through. A bittersweet feeling took hold of her heart; how she wished Chuck were here. She had sought out the fight all those years ago to avenge her family's death…and now it was over. They won the war in Europe.

Rubbing her sleeve quickly over her eyes, Grace smiled sheepishly at Harry's smiling face that appeared in front of her. "You getting' mushy on us now, Angel?" he ribbed, hugging her in celebration.

"It's just the Champagne", she scoffed, hugging him back.

"Yeah, yeah", he winked at her, "tell that to Sparky".

"Oh shit, Harry…" she started.

"I'm not tellin' anybody what I saw, not to worry", he laughed at her red face and pulled away, winking, "first platoon on me!"

"Second platoon!" Grace called out, corralling her men. Seeing all of their eyes turn to her at once, she nodded, "let's get your lodging situated before we drink too much, shall we?" At that, the men laughed loudly and began following her over to the large apartment building that flanked the main hotel and beside the large operating main CP. As she led them away, she surveyed the courtyard quickly for a glance at Ron. Not finding him among the parting troopers, she frowned.

Oooooooooo

After Winters' dismissal, Ron looked over to Grace who was greeting her men happily. Making sure he got away without her seeing him, Ron quickly made his way around the nearest corner and began walking toward the newly established mechanic and weapons shop; he had a long awaited errand to make.

"Captain Speirs, sir", the first man inside the door to the garage stood up and saluted him. At his name, the two other troopers in the garage immediately dropped their cards and followed suit.

"At ease", Ron dismissed them casually. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he retrieved the empty bullet shell and held it out to the ranking sergeant, "I need you to fix this for me".

Ooooooooo

"Home, sweet home", Lieb smirked as the platoon walked into the foyer.

"You're tellin' me", Babe whistled, "nice digs, Gracie".

"Of course I made sure to snag the best building", Grace offered smugly, "now all of the rooms are nearly identical. There's enough room for everyone and then some…just don't let me catch anyone in your bed who shouldn't be there…" the men groaned and chuckled.

"We would never cheat on you, Lieutenant", Malarkey added to giggles.

"Yeah, yeah", she laughed and nodded to the four orderlies who entered the foyer carrying two wooden crates between them. Grace handed them a carton of Camels, dismissing them and looked to her men who were regarding her quietly with curiosity, "we have been through so much…a lifetime together; and I am proud to say that I served with the very best". She kicked the lids off the crates, revealing bottles of stacked Champagne, "for that, I believe you deserve the best; happy VE Day, boys".

"Happy VE Day!" they called back. Winking at them all and leaving the now noisy and exuberant men, Grace made her way back outside, intending to find her quarters and Ron.

"Bribing the orderlies again?" Lew intercepted her right outside.

"Oh, I learned from the most talented", she answered, turning to him and smiling.

A moment of silence passed between them, punctured by the muffled sound of popping champagne bottles. They softly smiled at one another as Lew stepped forward, hugging her, "VE Day, huh?"

Grace grinned into the crook of his neck, "looks like it". Squeezing him hard then pulling away, she kissed him on the cheek, "the war in Europe is over".

"Hard to believe; we've been at it for so long".

"I know", she shook her head in contemplation, growing reflective, "…I wish…"

"I know, Gracie-bird", he interrupted gently; "I wish he were here too". Grace nodded, a lump in her throat. She felt a tear skip down her cheek, "hey, it's alright", Lew soothed.

"It's all the Champagne I've had; I'm turning sentimental", she laughed, wiping her face.

"I got just the cure", he winked, pulling a dark wine bottle from his back pocket, "I selected this just for you, courtesy of old Adolf's private collection. You always liked red wine…I'm not sure when you had some last".

Touched, Grace took the bottle and inspected the old, ornate label, "thank you, Lew". She smiled up at him, "it has been a good while since I've had some".

"Don't mention it, kid", he smirked, "you go up to your room yet?"

"Nope, not yet".

"You'll be pleased", he nodded, "looks like it belonged to some high ranking Nazi's girl".

"I like the sound of that".

"Go check it out", he shooed her away into the direction of CP. Grace smiled up at him, squeezed his hand and walked away.

Easy Company CP was an impressive building with wide double doors and large windows. Easy company officers would be billeted here; and with just handful of officers, the building would remain mostly empty. Judging by the ornate statues and carvings inside the foyer, Grace could determine easily that this apartment building held high-ranking Nazi Officers and their families. Stopping beside a large bookcase, she ran her finger down the spine of a thick book. They were all in German…it was a pity she didn't read German; she would have liked to go through them while they were here.

"Lieutenant Grant?"

Grace turned towards the voice and spotted an orderly making his way down the stairs and towards the front doors, "yes?"

"Just finished putting your stuff up in your room…it's at the top of the stairs on the third floor, the door on the right."

"Thank you very much", she nodded, running up the stairs, not hearing the orderly's response. Taking the steps by two, hearing her jump boots echo off the marble, she made it to the third and top floor quickly. Looking around, she noticed the building's vacancy…everybody must be out procuring booze. There was an odd anticipation in realizing she was virtually alone. Being in the paratroopers, she seldom found herself all alone, and in this moment she felt like a child; as if she was back in Nixon, New Jersey and rediscovering Lew's large old family home.

Directly in front of her were two large doorways with double doors, in between them was a large golden table, a vase with fresh flowers in the center. Grace shook her head at the cleanliness of it all…the men they'd spotted working here must have been waiting for the Nazi's to come back…the little village was so picture-perfect, it appeared as though no one had ever left.

On the third floor, there were three doorways; the two in front of her, and one on the far left. The two had to be bedrooms, but that last one had an intricately carved border surrounding the door. Grace approached it and opened the door, the smell of well-polished wood hit her nose and she peered around. It was a parlor of sorts…deep wooden walls with plush leather chairs, a large fireplace, and liquor…good liquor everywhere. Smirking to herself, she swiped two champagne flutes nearby and exited quickly; Grace knew why Ron had picked this building…two bedrooms next to one another, on their own floor _plus _a liquor room right down the hallway? Perfect.

Grace walked to the door that had to be Ron's and knocked softly…no response. She peeked her head in and looked around.

"Ron?" she called out…no answer. Meandering inside the masculine room, she noticed a large box of good champagne nearby boxes of valuables. "He's been busy", she whispered to herself, smiling. Boldly helping herself to one bottle of champagne, she then exited softly, shutting the door and wandered into her own room, stopping immediately at the sight.

It was so light and feminine; the walls were a soft ivory and covered in artwork, the linens and comforter on the bed were ivory and looked incredibly soft. The natural light that filled the space cast everything it touched in a dreamy glow. Grace felt dirty by comparison.

Her eyes found the archway to an en suite bathroom beside a large glass door to her balcony and she smirked, slipping off her field jacket and taking off her boots.

She skipped into the bathroom and took inventory of what she had at her disposal, girly giddiness filling her. The large tub was beside a nicely sized window that overlooked a garden and a pathway below. There was a vanity with an enormous mirror hanging in front of it. On the desk of the vanity sat expensive makeup and perfume, all placed in perfect presentation. Moreover, perched on the edge of the tub was an assortment of French bath oils and lotions. She had hit the jackpot.

"Holy shit", she laughed to herself, anxious to strip down and get in the tub.

Setting down the champagne and glasses, and quickly making work of discarding her pants, shirt, and socks, she suddenly had a paranoid feeling: what if the oils and lotions and everything were tampered with?

All this time fighting the Nazi's…she could not shake her natural instinct when it came to foul play.

Grabbing one of the plush light pink towels, she began testing them all. One by one, she dipped the fabric into the liquid and waited for a negative reaction. After encountering nothing, she nodded and decided to proceed. After all, she had thirty-six hours to do whatever it was that she wanted. As she turned on the faucet to the tub and plugged the drain, she remembered with a start what Ron had promised…that when they received a pass, he would _throw her in the room and loose the key_.

Even more reason now to soak in the tub and make sure she felt and looked as feminine as possible.

Her heart beating in anticipation now, she quickly popped the champagne and poured herself a glass while slipping off her undergarments and stepping into the water. She took a swig and set the glass nearby.

"Ahhhhhh", she breathed out as she sat down, the water and bubbles grazing her collarbones. Grace could have cried in relief, the warmth and luxury felt so good.

A bubble of melancholy floated up into her heart and burst, filling her briefly with an overwhelming feeling of debt; how grateful she was that she was _here_, she had _lived_…how after all that had happened, she had managed to retain her sense of self…and find Ron. A cool tear slipped down her flushed cheek, followed by a few more and Grace took a measured breath. She would have the rest of her life to grapple with what they had all been through, but suddenly she felt exhausted. She untied her hair from its bun and slipped beneath the water, into the silence.

"Grace?" she heard her name being called from underwater, the voice was muffled.

Startled, she quietly came up for air and made certain her figure was covered by soap bubbles, "I'm in the tub", she called out tentatively.

From her doorway, Ron smiled at her cautious voice. He shut the door and made his way to the bathroom, hearing little splashes of water. Eagerly peering around the archway, he saw her in the tub, bubbles surrounding her and her clothing piled in the corner, a glass of champagne beside her. The entire room smelled of jasmine. "Making yourself comfortable?"

Grace smiled, "I couldn't help myself".

Ron boldly walked forward, his heart hammering at the sight of her. Leaning down, his eyes skipped over her glistening features, "well don't let me stop you", he husked. He captured her wet lips with his, kissing her softly; then leaning back with a groan, he picked up her champagne glass and swigged the rest of it.

"I never said you had to leave", she suggested, watching as he filled her glass again.

His green eyes locked onto her face as he smiled, "we'll have time for all of that, I promise…but I've got to go back down to the weapons garage." He gently wiped a soap bubble from her cheek and stood up, "meet me outside, near the courtyard in an hour?" She nodded at his request, wondering if there was something she could wear in this room besides her OD's. "I love you", he said tenderly.

"I love you too", she responded, gracefully kicking her legs up above the water line for show.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ron grinned as she giggled and he exited the bathroom, "you're going to be the death of me, Grace".

Oooooooooo

Grace took every minute of the next hour to get ready. After setting her hair to curl, she sat down at the vanity to do her makeup. She nearly laughed aloud at the pathetic state of her humble little makeup bag compared to the expensive luxury products surrounding her now.

Makeup done and hair curled and down her back, she took inventory of the closet and armoire. Grinning, she found and set aside cream-colored garters, along with a cream-colored dress that luckily appeared to fit.

Finishing her look and feeling silly for being a little anxious, she stepped into a snug pair of nude heels.

Oooooooooo

Walking down the stairs and marveling at the foreign feeling of her outfit, she concentrated on the sound of her heels against the marble stairs.

"Hello, Lieutenant". Grace looked up to see George and Frank in the doorway to CP; George grinned at her.

"Jesus, Gracie", Frank whistled, "lookin' good".

She lamely blushed at their attention, "thanks boys".

"Where'd you get the digs?" George asked.

"Stole them", she answered, meeting them at the door.

"That 'a girl", Frank laughed.

"You meeting someone?" George asked, his voice trailing off in a high note.

"If I am?" Grace challenged.

"Lucky guy", he shrugged, grinning big.

"Why are you guys at CP? What's up?" she inquired.

Perco stepped close, keeping his voice down comically, "we heard there was a huge room of liquor in here, that true?"

She smirked, "if it was, it'd be on the third floor", they began smiling like fools at her as she finished, "but it's right next door to the Captain's room…so I would be in-and-out of there quick if I were you".

As she winked at them and walked away, Perco called his thanks, already running up the stairs with George calling out behind him, "tell that Captain hello from us!"

Grace could care less about George's little dig as she made her was out to the courtyard, not too far away.

Ron heard the sound of heels from behind him. Smiling and turning around, the wind was nearly knocked out of his lungs as he saw her.

"Hello", she said sweetly.

Ron cleared his throat before answering, "Hello".

Stepping towards him, she smiled, "I have to say thank you for the spectacular room assignment. I couldn't have dreamed for anything better".

"I'm glad", he answered, his eyes skipping over her sparkling features.

"So what's the plan?"

Ron shook his head, "the plan escaped my mind the minute I saw you".

She laughed softly at his pink cheeks, "so what should we do?"

"This place seems pretty deserted with everyone busy drinking", he began. Inside him, his heart was pounding, dying to get her in a room alone.

"You're right", she agreed. "CP was virtually abandoned when I left to find you…" she trailed off, responding to his dropping tenor and seeing his eyes darken on her. She needed him; in the back of her mind, she was cursing Frank and George, hoping they had gotten what they needed from the liquor room and left.

"Was it?" he husked and Grace nodded, feeling the sparks fly between them. "Care to share a glass of Champagne with me in my quarters, Grace?"

"I'll race you there", she dared, turning to CP.

Grinning, Grace bolted in through the doorway and up the stairs, the adrenaline shooting through her like lightening at the sound of him chasing after. When she made it to the main landing on their on their floor, Ron lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and smiling as she melodically laughed, the sound echoing like chimes down the hall.

"It looks like we're left to our own devices", he whispered into her ear, knowing they really were all alone…and would be for hours.

"Is that right?" she murmured, distracted by his fingers massaging her hips. Playfully, she circled her hips, pressing her backside into him. Smiling as his arms tightened, she turned her face towards his, "I suppose that means we have all night".

His pupils dilated, drowning the green pools in black as he growled lowly and turned her to face him fully.

They kissed passionately, hungrily as Ron lifted her up, her legs gracefully hooking around his hips. She gasped as his large, warm hands held her up by her bottom; he smirked into their kiss as he walked forward, setting her down gently on the edge of the gilded table pressed up against the wall between their bedrooms. His hands planted themselves on her hips once more as she kissed him with everything she had, matching his intensity.

"God, I love you", he breathed heatedly between kisses.

Grace smiled, "I love you too". She stroked his hair and face as she kissed him, dragging her nails lightly down his neck. Ron softly hissed at the sensation, pulled away slightly, and began peppering wet kisses down the column of her neck.

Biting her reddened lip, Grace began to unbutton his shirt, her head tilting back, giving Ron more access to her neck as he ran his fingers down her thighs. She gasped as he gently latched on to the sensitive part of her neck. She felt him groan as his fingers pushed the hem of her dress up, revealing the cream garters underneath. His hands cupped her bottom, pushing her dress up further as he picked her up and pressed her back to the wall beside his door.

Grabbing his hair and smiling as he kissed her collarbone, Grace's head fell to the side in pleasure, trying hard not to moan out. She could feel the heat of his need, and responsively, a fire bloomed deep within her; insistent, inescapable, throbbing.

The ache to have him touch her, feel him inside her was so intense, she could do nothing more than emit a moan to articulate her desire.

His answer was a deep, possessive growl and a sharp nip at her lips. Her stomach dropped erotically at the sensation; panting rather than breathing. She was chagrinned when his urgent mouth sought her ear to whisper, "I need you".

Having completely forgotten for the moment they were out in the middle of the expansive hallway, she felt the flame within her color her cheeks from their bold recklessness. She opened her eyes to look down for the doorknob, when she saw the double doors leading to the liquor room open.

Standing in the open doorway, completely silent with amused and dumbfounded expressions were George and Frank; in each of their hands were bottles of booze.

Grace felt her jaw drop and her eyes grow wide as Ron continued to kiss her neck and grab at her garters. Luz leaned over and covered Perco's eyes while smiling and shrugging shamelessly.

Before Ron either ripped off her dress with his teeth or discovered the two troopers leering at them, Grace needed to get them into his room. She quickly opened his door, slid down his body and captured his lips gently.

Flipping the bird to George and Frank behind Ron's back, she pulled him into his room by his unbuttoned collar and kicked the door shut.

**This was a challenge to write. No idea why. Thank you for reading!**

**Next chapter will include lots and lots of 'fun times'. Stay tuned.**

**Please tell me what you think!**


	49. Chapter 49

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and messaged me…I appreciate it more than you know. Xoxoxoxo You guys have kept me going with your harassment, I promise. **

**Also, THANK YOU for being so patient with me; I wanted this particular chapter to be PERFECT. Now, let's let the good times roll! **

**(This chapter earns its rating)**

_Last time:_

…_.she pulled him into his room by his unbuttoned collar and kicked the door shut._

Ron smirked and grabbed at her hips, hearing his door kicked shut, "anxious, are we?"

Not about to let him know that two of their troopers just saw him groping her, Grace smiled at him, her body burning at his touch, "a little". He pressed his lips to hers again and sighed, his arms sliding up her back and holding her close. "Can you blame me?" she gasped as his lips moved across her jaw.

"Remember what I said…about when we got a pass?" he husked in her ear.

She nodded, "…that you would throw me into your room and lose the key…" her fingers gripped his shirt, and pulled at the remaining clasped buttons.

"You are absolutely right, Miss Grant", he confirmed confidently; pushing his BDU shirt off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His hands snapped back to Grace's form, his fingers finding the zipper on the back of her cream-colored dress. His heart skipped a beat, hearing her soft, excited gasp as he unzipped her; her palms resting on his naked torso. She let the garment flutter to the floor as she kept her eyes on his face. His chest was rising and falling as if he were out of breath, his eyes searing her flesh as he studied her. "You are…" he whispered; he was at a loss for words. Under the demure dress, Grace's body was adorned with a dainty cream brassier and panties…all lace and all nearly see-through.

She smiled, feeling her cheeks grow pink under his intense scrutiny; she had picked out these garments on purpose, anticipating his reaction to them. His eyes followed her fingers as she straightened a strap on her right garter. She laughed lightly as he shook his head, and Grace turned on the spot and peeked over her shoulder at him, "…you were saying?"

Softly growling, Ron pulled her to him and she sighed feeling his warmth pressed against her backside, "you are…_a dream_", she shivered, enjoying the sensation of his slight stubble on her shoulder. She turned in his arms to face him, thrilled at his breathlessness with her, "…and you're _mine_…and _here_", he panted, "here with me…" Touched by his tender and vulnerable words, Grace held his jaw in her hands as she placed a kiss near his mouth. "I love you", he murmured, his hands slipping around and hanging low on her waist.

"I love you too", she answered back.

He kissed her again then; this kiss was gentle and reverent. Something had changed between them…perhaps when they heard the German army had surrendered…the curious intimacy that had sprouted between them long ago suddenly blossomed into a full-blown headiness - intoxicating and consuming in nature. Gentleness gave way to passion as Grace's fingers swiftly unbuckled his belt, their lips still locked together. Ron tangled his own fingers in her hair as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pushed them off his hips.

Needing to feel her naked chest on his, he dragged a hand down and unclasped her bra as he walked them to the edge of the large bed. Dropping the lace to the floor absently, his hands stroked her bare back as he sighed into her mouth, open and pliant against his.

Grace felt them stop their migration across the floor as Ron cradled her and swooped her down to the bed, laying her on her back gently. He paused, admiring the whiteness of her skin in comparison to the rich green of the bed sheets. "I need you", she confessed beneath him, her breathing increasing with his, both of them realizing what this moment was.

Heat flooded his body at her words, "say that again", he requested softly.

Emboldened by how comfortable she felt in her nakedness before his intense gaze, she acquiesced to her desire to be _declared_. "I need you", her breathy voice was dripping with aspiration and Ron responded to it immediately by leaning over her, "I want you…I have wanted you since I first saw you…"

"Me too, love", he smiled conspiratorially at her flushed body.

Her eyes searched his as his weight covered her lightly; her legs parted for him so he could nestle and fit in-between. They both gasped at the embrace, their breaths catching. "I want you to claim me", she sighed, losing herself in the swirl of his eyes as they darkened even further.

He stopped breathing as his eyes widened and studied her - this beautiful, fearless, and exposed woman beneath him. She trusted her heart to him, so much so, that she desired him to _take_ her in the most complete sense of the word. This act between them was a vow, and even though he had seen Grace in battle - leading a whole group of men, saving them, nearly dying for them - she wanted to be taken care of. He knew in doing so, she would reciprocate ten-fold and his heart began to beat louder at her vulnerability. "I will", he promised, his voice low, "and I plan to do so frequently until I leave this earth".

Leaning down, he pushed his weight onto her and kissed her passionately. He felt her smile as his hips circled against hers.

He took his time; listening to every breath, wanting to learn her body, his lips memorizing every curve of her, eyes searing her as he burned into memory the exact color the setting sun stained on her skin. Grace sighed for the thousandth time, her senses driven into overload at the sensation of Ron _all around _her. His large hands cupped her breasts as his lips kissed down her torso, meandering a trail from rib to rib and dipping to her belly button and hips. She appreciatively studied the muscles in his back and shoulders, promising to herself to run her lips over every one, her hands dancing along him lightly.

Ron groaned as he kissed her hip one last time, his fingers dragging down her skin to grip her panties. Grace wordlessly lifted her hips as he pulled them off, leaving her bare to him; an erotic shiver wound its way up her body at the feeling of giving him total control of her…it was _liberating_.

_Pity they don't give out ribbons and medals for _this _type of liberation_…she thought to herself shamelessly. Her smile stalled on her face as she felt him part her legs, his shoulders now settled under her thighs. Warm breath floated over her most intimate part as Ron sighed, placing his hands on either side of her inner thighs.

"Oh", Grace breathed out as she felt his lips caress her, feeling his fingers splay out as he _kissed_ her below, passionately. Her hands sought the bed sheets as he continued to explore her slowly, taking his time and keeping no pace…he was _enjoying _her. "Ron…" she whispered, loving his name on her tongue as she fought not to move her hips against him.

Ron hummed in pleasure at the sound of his name, delighting in the position of _having_ her so open and supple in his hands. He had always considered _this _act to be one of _the _most intimate, and doing this to her was a dream come true…it had played frequently in his fantasies.

He could feel the sheets pull and he knew she was gripping them hard, her toes her pointed and digging into the mattress. Running his hands up her calves and thighs, he made a trail straight to her breasts. Lightly palming her, he could feel her body begin to move with him.

"God, Ron", she whispered his name like a prayer, breathing into the pleasure she felt all the way to her toes. A deep curl in her stomach began to form, and as tempting as it was to cross, she wanted desperately to have him come with her, _in _her. "Come here…"

"Grace…" Ron countered, not wanting to stop, wanting to feel her more.

Her back arching slightly as she fought off the heat in her belly, she looked down to him, her stomach curling more at the mere sight of him snug in between her legs. "Please", she pleaded, her voice soft.

Giving in to her flushed face, Ron shoved down his boxers and grabbed a condom. After slipping it on, he crawled up her body, a look of wonderment adorning his features. She studied his face in fascination, every freckle, dimple, and laugh line so familiar to her - as familiar as her own reflection now.

Beneath him, her face blossomed into a smile. He had seen her as an eager sergeant, a capable lieutenant, a battle-conscious leader, but now he was witness to the beautiful woman wrapped around him. He could not answer which version of her he preferred if he tried…he loved _all _of her.

Reaching between their bodies, Grace held him, appreciating the gasp he took at her touch and placing him at the warmth of her opening.

His heart racing at the promise of her heat, Ron fought a shiver as he looked into her eyes, misty and trained on him, "I love you, Grace", he murmured, his voice incredibly low.

"I love you too", she responded in breathless anticipation, his eyes acting like anchors to her throbbing body.

He captured her lips in a tender kiss as his hips tilted forward and down, sinking into her. They both broke the kiss, panting into each other's mouths in relieved breaths. He buried himself so deep inside her that Grace could feel his pulse, she clenched around him in response and he groaned, trying to remain in control.

With one arm bent and supporting his weight, Ron cupped her face with the other as he kissed her again and began to move gently. Arching his back, he pulled out slowly and reentered her, earning a choked gasp. Grace's arms hooked under Ron's shoulders as she held him to her, kissing down his neck now as he moved within her.

The feeling was intense, erotic, and nearly indescribable. Grace couldn't remember what the date was, what the last thing she ate was, or even her own name…her mind was intently focused on two things: Ron…and what he was making her feel.

Ron moaned at the feeling of her lips on his pulse and under his jaw. His senses were so honed in on her, on the symphony of pleasurable noises she was making. Clenching his jaw, he trembled at the feeling she was giving him…their bodies fit flawlessly.

Grace threw her head pack onto the pillow and to the side as Ron hit a sublime spot in her. Immediately, his lips descended onto her neck, kissing her.

"Are you ok?" he husked into her ear.

"God, yes", she responded, her hips meeting his measured thrusts, "are you?"

"I'm perfect", he whispered.

Her fingers threaded into his hair as she pulled his lips to hers. Kissing one another fully, the sounds of their pleasure were shared between them. Spurred on by the sweet sounds of her bliss, Ron grabbed her hips, tilting them, both of them crying out when he was able to get even deeper than before, incessantly stroking a spot deep within her that made the curled heat coil up and burst through climactically.

"Ron", Grace gasped, her hands cupping his jaw and neck. She felt weightless as pleasure surged through her, clenching all around him.

He growled and panted, his movements slowing - desperate for as much sensation as possible. Ron pulled her gently up and moved them so she was on his lap, both sitting, their chests rising and falling together. One of his hands were pressed to her lower back, the other gripped her hip as he kept moving, gradually sliding in and out of her. Grace trembled in his embrace, her lips open and grazing his cheek.

When he was nearly still, his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly to him. "I can feel you", he gasped in her ear, his voice low and dark. "You're everywhere…", he began to thrust again, slowly intensifying every feeling for them both, "I can feel your heartbeat", he husked.

Grace pulled back slightly; planting kisses and nips to his jaw and neck as his hands came down to grip both sides of her hips. Gasping as he pushed her hips down onto him, she swiveled her hips, the pleasure so intense she could hardly produce sound anymore.

Keeping herself steady now with her hands clasped around his broad shoulders, she rode out waves of pleasure as his thrusts became erratic, desperate for release. He was so close now, she could feel it, his stomach was tightening against hers, his breathing coming in shorts gasps…

"Ron", Grace sang in contentment into his ear, pushing him over the edge.

He squeezed her hips and held her still as he came, shoving himself so deep that her hoarse cries mingled with his. She held him tightly as he did, kissing his shoulders, neck, and face as his pleasure swirled away.

Catching his breath, Ron kept a hold of her and held her face to his, kissing her as he felt himself relax in her. Pulling out gently as he laid her down, he groaned - the loss of her warmth feeling like an amputation.

Grace curled her body around his as he pulled the sheets over them, his arms grabbing at her protectively.

Ron looked down to the vision of Grace resting against his chest. He knew she would be able to hear the pounding of his heart with her cheek against him. She let out a soft, comfortable and happy hum at the sound, and Ron found himself breathless. Desperately wanting to burn this image into his memory, he studied the twilight sky outside, casting hues of amber and lavender into the room and her white skin against his. Her dark hair had grown since she had cut it before DDay and now its curling ends tickled his sides as she turned her face to press a kiss to his chest.

"Jesus…" she began in a soft voice after minutes of silence. The sun was gone now, the sky glowed a deep purple. "You are incredible".

Ron couldn't help the smirk that slipped onto his face, "am I?"

Grace smiled as she shimmied up his side until she was face-to-face with him, sharing his pillow. "I'm wondering how you're going to out-do yourself…"

The predatory grin that met her words sent chills down to her toes, "my darling, you have _no _idea what tricks are up my sleeve". He located the crate that he had placed in his room earlier before turning back to her, "care to hydrate with some champagne?"

"You read my mind".

**MORE TO COME SOON! I have a bunch written but it just didn't fit after this last bit so I decided to save it til next chapter.**

**I hope you enjoyed this, this was an important chapter to me and I spent so long on it (even though it's short), I wanted it to be perfect.**

**Please tell me what you think. Update to come soon.**

**Xoxoxoxoxoxo**


	50. Chapter 50

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who responded to that last chapter! I'm so happy it got well-received reviews.**

**And I certainly want to THANK YOU for being patient with me. I am not making excuses, for my story is never far from my mind, but family things have sprung up and took me away from my computer (if you knew the whole story, you wouldn't believe me) so I am grateful for your understanding.**

**Without further ado….**

Sleep.

How _long_ had it been since she had slept this long? She honestly could not recall.

She was so comfortable; she registered that she was still tucked into his side, her arm snug around his waist and holding him to her.

The sun was streaming into the room in soft yellow beams; they fell onto Ron's face so gently that her throat tightened at the sight. His lips - one of her many favored parts of him - were slightly parted in relaxation, his hair was messy from sleep and…other things…and was tousled perfectly across his forehead.

Gently reaching forward, Grace softly swept her index finger along his stubbled jaw line, humming in pleasure as he leaned into her touch and held her tighter. She leaned forward and lightly laid her nose along his collarbone and breathed deeply…that musky, woodsy smell that was all _him_, she would never tire of that. Pressing a kiss to his chest and opening her eyes, she appreciated the way the sunlight danced along his tanned skin, the way the soft hairs on his chest were illuminated, creating a lit path that led down beneath the covers.

"I love you", she whispered ever so quietly against his warm skin. Smiling at the sound of his deep breathing in response, Grace leaned up on one elbow and pressed a kiss to his neck.

Last night had been…_transcendent_. Never had she felt that safe, that loved…and now, she had never felt so rested, so…complete.

There was a stillness to this morning. A calmness that Grace had never felt before in her life. It was as if Time was tranquil…not unmoving, but rested and content.

Grace realized then, in a cloud of peaceful giddiness, that out of the two of them, she was always the one to wake up first. She contemplated if that would prove to be a trend in their future lives…that if in a year from now - or fifty years from now - that she will still be beside him and waking up first.

A couple of doves broke the silence of the morning, taking flight from a branch outside their window and Grace looked to them, watching them fly away, their fluttering silhouettes melting into the morning's sun.

A warm pair of lips touched her left shoulder and she looked down, greeted by the sight of Ron's green eyes on her. He reached forward and gently touched her shoulder, her scar that she had received way back in 1942 in North Africa.

"I remember when I first saw you", he began softly, "you were running the training course in full gear". Grace smirked at the memory, recalling how she had seen him too. He kissed her scar again and looked to her, "I had no idea you had been wounded until about a week later…I was mad at myself for not noticing".

"You were?" she inquired softly, curious.

He simply nodded and stroked down her arm, "that's when I started assigning myself night guard duty with you. I told myself it was to hear about your stories of service…but…", he smiled gently and kissed her neck, "I was lying…I wanted to be near you", he finished in a whisper.

"The best part of my day was guard duty with you", she confessed and was rewarded with a grin, "I would sit there, and hear your boots coming from a mile away…and I would have to _fight_ to not turn to you immediately." They laughed together, breathlessly, "you never asked questions…"

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable…" he began.

She shook her head, "I know…I liked that you let me tell you my stories at my pace…that you listened to everything and didn't want me to skip to the action." She studied his face, his dewy skin, the way the sun bounced off his eyelashes, "I remember how you distracted Sobel when I was ordered to run Currahee again…to let the men follow me".

He nodded, his eyes taking on a protective sheen, "I was so angry…I didn't know how to react to him abusing his authority and getting everything wrong." He took a breath as she kissed his cheek, "I _do _remember how proud I was when I saw you leading that platoon on that practice mission." She smiled fully and Ron admired her dimples and the way the light made her auburn hair glow red, "…when we danced in Aldbourne…"

"Oh…" Grace sighed, taken by the way her heart dropped, remembering as well.

"That green dress…", he whispered as she leaned to him, their lips brushing, "you are so beautiful". Both of them remained close, their lips barely brushing, exchanging breath. "Our first kiss…"

"DDay…right as the planes were starting", she finished for him.

"You were a vision in face paint", he smirked, feeling the vibration of her laughter.

"They weren't going to postpone the invasion of Europe just for me to have my way with you", she sighed and it was his turn to laugh.

He brought a hand up and let his fingertips brush her cheek, his jaw clenching as he swallowed, "I had never been so afraid when I couldn't find you after we landed." Turning her face, she kissed his palm as he continued, "when you found us, you looked like you'd gone through hell…but you were the best thing I'd seen - you were _there_…you'd survived".

"Remember the foxhole in the hedgerow?" she whispered and he nodded, smiling tightly. "I can't believe I kissed you like that…I was so embarrassed."

"You were embarrassed? Love, you have nothing to be embarrassed about", he assured. "I let you walk away from me…I pushed you away…I'm the idiot".

Grace shook her head and grew contemplative as they both got closer to one another and Ron tucked a stray lock behind her ear. "The hedgerow battle…" she murmured.

"The tanks?" he offered gently.

She nodded, absently grasping his hand, "I thought…"

"I know".

After a moment, she shrugged, "on the bright side, I would have never had the excuse to fire a bazooka at a tank." After their chuckles died down, her hand found the scar on his shoulder blade, "Market Garden…"

"I had never been so relieved to hear anyone's voice", he implored, gazing at her, "when you came into my tent, I nearly collapsed at the sight of you". He smiled, "you're pretty when you're angry".

"I didn't like hearing you pulled out that piece of tank that got you", she chided, "what a stupid thing to do".

"It got you to me", he said, "…not that that was the whole point, but still", he shrugged. After a moment of listening to her breathe, he frowned, "I didn't like not talking to you…_that_ was the stupidest thing I did".

"I was too preoccupied with worrying about how you saw me then thinking of how all of this was affecting you", Grace tried to explain.

"I love you", Ron expressed tenderly.

"I love you too", she responded.

Another moment passed in blissful and reflective silence. Grace took Ron's hand in hers and kissed his palm and each of his fingers. He watched in fascination as she did so, his throat tightening as he recalled another memory.

"Bastogne", he whispered. Grace's actions stalled as she looked to his haunted expression. "Nixon came to my tent after the barrage…he handed me your compass", he voice grew softer as his fingers grasped the pendant that rested against her chest. "I have never known…that emotion, the emotion that I felt…I really thought I had _lost you_".

Closing her hand over his she searched his eyes, breathing evenly for the both of them. "I'm here", she implored in gentle confidence.

Ron cupped her cheek, his eyes losing their grief and gaining passion, "I have never loved…not like this…", Grace smiled as a tear spilled over onto her cheek, "_I love you_…so much".

"I love you", she urged warmly as his fingers wiped away her tear and he leaned forward to capture her lips with his. Gasping quietly into the kiss as he eased her back onto the bed and leaned over her form, Grace held his jaw.

Ron kicked the covers off them, baring them to the warmth of the sun, laced with the slight chill of morning. Grace reveled in the sensation of Ron holding her tight and her legs fell open for him to fit in between but not before he grabbed a condom off the nightstand.

"Grace", he sighed as she took the thin plastic piece from him and slipped it on while kissing him.

As she placed him to her opening, she sighed into his ear, "I have thought of you every single day since I met you", she tilted her hips up, taking him in.

"Oh", he gasped at her words and warmth, "…Grace…"

"I love you, Ron", she exhaled against his lips, meeting his gasp, "oh, God".

"I love you", he breathed, his lips open against hers.

Exchanging heated breath, they moved slowly with one another, the electricity between them growing exponentially. Capturing her lips, he slid all the way inside her and remained there, unmoving, his eyes rolling as he could feel her clenching around him. After a moment, Grace felt him _slowly_ begin to move his hips in circles against her.

Her stomach dropped at the feeling…she could feel him _everywhere_. She tried arching her back, but he kept her still, the only friction coming from within.

"Ron" she moaned, throwing her head back. Ron pushed himself up on his elbows, allowing himself the pleasure of seeing her body arch to him languidly. He leaned down and kissed her breasts softly, groaning as she gasped. Her heart was pounding…last night had been so passionate, so heady and intoxicating - and while they both remained in that cloud of bliss, this morning's intimacy felt more unhurried, lazy even. Wanting to draw out her rapidly forming pleasure, Grace gently pushed on his shoulders, "lay back", she urged.

He complied and was rewarded with her atop him, leaning over and kissing him, shrouding them both in a curtain of her hair. He gasped as she swiveled her hips against him, keeping pace herself. Throwing her hair in an auburn wave over her shoulder, she sat up, keeping her hands against his chest, and moved her body like a feline against his. Ron could only moan at the image, his body throbbing for her.

"Oh, God", he hissed as she began to move faster, her chest bouncing lightly. Wanting to take control again, Ron smiled at Grace's amused squeal as he gently grabbed her hips and maneuvered himself on top once again.

Taking it slow once more, Ron slid in and out of her, memorizing her every gasp and sigh…every time she bit her lip. He remained within her longer the more he sank into her warmth, his hands now under her shoulders. She curled herself to him, her hands grasping his jaw, and their eyes never leaving the others.

The hot coil in her stomach curled and burned at his deep and stroking strides. Breathing and moving in tandem, they stared into one another as their movements took on a desperate flavor. Both wanting to hold onto it, they gasped as their climax burst through - neither moving faster to pursue it…they let it wash over them, drowning them, as they watched one another fall over the edge.

He held her close, not wanting to slip out of her just yet - not while they were still catching their breath. His arms were around her, running his fingers down her arms and gazing into her eyes. More than anything, he wanted her to feel safe and loved.

They had built a beautiful bubble since he had locked the door to this room…and while Ron knew they had one hour until morning roll call, he didn't want it to burst just yet - he would hold her until they absolutely needed to get up.

Ooooooooo

0930 hours…they had the rest of the day until their passes expired.

Following roll call, Grace had eluded her men…fearing that she would give away some telltale sign that anything had changed about her. She felt like a different woman…a _remade_, _reclaimed_ woman.

Hurrying into her own room and locking the door, she excitedly ran to the dresser to grab what she needed before she met Ron at the lake as he requested. _'The lake'_, he had said, _'the cluster of trees flanking the right side of the dock'_.

'_Meet me there at 10…wear a dress?'_

Ooooooooo

Ron walked over to Captain Nixon directly following roll call, wanting to intercept him before he disappeared for the day.

"Captain Nixon?"

Lew turned around at his name and Ron silently breathed in relief, he had caught Nixon alone, "Captain Speirs?

"A word?" Ron requested, "privately?"

Lew narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the Captain and then nodded, leading him into a vacant storage building off the courtyard. They stopped a few yards inside…the only light coming from the open door. Lewis watched as Speirs slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled it out formed into a fist. His eyes travelling to Ron's face, Lew's famous smirk slid onto his features, putting it together quickly. "I know what this is", he nodded.

"You…" Ron began.

Lew interrupted him, "you didn't steal some Nazi rock, did you?" He pointed at Ron's fist, "I do not want some Nazi's diamond on _her_ finger". Off Ron's amused silence, Lew shook his head, "I'm not an intelligence officer for nothing…I know what this is…so let's see it".

Acquiescing to the closest family Grace had, Ron opened his palm. "It's a bullet shell", he explained, "I had the Sergeant at the weapons garage smooth it out and fit it", he finished sincerely. "I have every intention of getting her a _real_ one when we get home". Looking directly at Lewis, Ron's eyes became fierce, intent, and honest, "I love her…I love her more than I can express. I am asking your permission to ask for her hand in marriage."

Lew regarded Ron silently for a moment, sadly hoping that Grace's father and Chuck were watching this somehow…wishing that they could witness Grace in love, that they could've met the man who was worthy of her. Lew was proud to have the responsibility to give Ron his answer. Speaking in a low voice, Lew began, "I know you would take a bullet to the head rather than ever harm her. You are a good man and I know she loves you." He nodded, "you have my permission".

Oooooooo

Grace ran as fast as she could in her navy heels to the lake, her navy dress and her curled hair bouncing with her.

When she reached the small clearing in the trees beside the lake and saw Ron, she was nearly knocked out of breath. His face split into a beautiful smile at the sight of her and she returned it fully as she ran to him.

"Doesn't this feel like we're getting away with something?" she laughed conspiratorially with him.

"It does", he agreed as his eyes searched her, trying to imprint this moment onto this brain. The thin, gold band in his hand behind his back burned as she smiled at him and looked around at the trees surrounding them.

"This is beautiful", she commented. "I bet the view of the stars is incredible here at night".

After a moment of silence, she turned to him and he took his cue. "When I first saw you in 1942, I never once thought we would be doing this, here..now - in the middle of war. You are unlike any one person I have ever met. I was a different person before I knew you…you have made me a better man…and I adore you, I love you." He walked forward, towards her…as she stood motionless before him, her eyes wide and misty. "you are my life…and I intend to love you every day so long as I draw breath." Sinking to one knee in front of her, he held up the humble gold ring, and looked imploringly into her dark, hazel eyes, "Grace Grant, will you marry me?"

Stunned, all Grace could do was nod as she smiled, breathless. "Yes", she managed to whisper out as Ron slipped the altered bullet shell onto her left ring finger.

"I love you, I love you, I love you", he murmured into her hair like prayer as he pulled her figure to him, holding her close, and silently sending a prayer of thanks to Grace's late father and brother.

Ooooooooo

After covertly returning to their rooms, Ron had broken out the champagne….at least ten bottles lay empty around his feet on the balcony…all accumulated from their first day here.

They had returned and spent the first half hour making out like teenagers and guzzling champagne. Ron had torn off his shirt in eagerness as Grace announced she was going back to his bathroom to touch up her makeup…she ordered him to the balcony, which is why he was alone and shirtless at this moment.

Picking up an empty bottle in boredom, Ron looked to his sidearm on the table…he smirked.

POP! SMASH!

From inside the bathroom, Grace heard the shot and the sound of glass breaking.

POP! SMASH!

She walked to the balcony where she knew he was.

"What the hell…"she murmured, seeing Ron in nothing but his pants, throwing the empty bottles over the balcony, them shooting them midair.

"Want to try?" he drawled, turning to her, his smirk dying on his lips as he studied her black lingerie.

"Don't mind if I do", she slipped his side arm from his grasp and elegantly held it out in front of her, the nodded once.

Grinning fully now, Ron flung another bottle into the air. Smiling, Grace fluidly aimed then shot, shattering the glass and sending the debris to the shrubs below.

He kept his eyes on her; this magnificent woman: in lacy, black lingerie, hair glossy and curled, _and _expertly shooting a moving target.

"You're perfect", he husked out, "I love you".

She looked him boldly in the eye and smiled devilishly, "let me shoot one more and you can show me how much". Complying, Ron lobbed one more bottle into the air and Grace eliminated it with ease. Reaching over now, he grabbed one of the corked Champagne bottles. "Suddenly craving a drink?" she coyly whispered, "have I made you thirsty?" In the back of her mind, she wondered where this playful woman inside her had been…she smiled, Ron was solely responsible for bringing her out.

Without speaking and keeping his gaze locked on her, Ron popped the cork and took a swing while stalking towards her. He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her. He opened his mouth to her and she felt the cool champagne flood her mouth. Smiling, she swallowed and kissed him back. "On the contrary", he sighed, "you've always made my mouth water".

Putting the side arm on safety and setting it back onto the table, Grace grinned and took the bottle from him. She tilted it to his neck, "I know what that feels like", she hushed as she poured a bit of the bottle's contents down his neck. His eyes widened as she leaned forward and licked from his chest up to the hollow of his neck.

"Jesus, Gracie", he groaned. He slipped the bottle back from her and gently cupped her jaw, "you have to indulge me, love". She smiled and stilled as he poured the champagne down over her collarbone, watching, transfixed, as her pale skin broke out in goose bumps. Moaning, his mouth went to the valley between her breasts as he lapped up the liquid.

"This is sinful", she laughed breathlessly above him.

Smiling against her, Ron poured again while simultaneously unhooking her bra and pulling it off, "sinful is my middle name, sweetheart".

She was about to laugh and poke fun at his cheesy line when his tongue found her nipple. Biting her lip and grabbing his hair, Grace fought to hold back any sound of pleasure; she knew that they couldn't be seen, but they could most definitely be heard while out on the balcony.

She failed to suppress a shiver at the revelation, "we should go inside".

"We are far too sticky to soil the bed now", he licked up her neck as he emptied the rest of the bottle over both of them; Grace squealed. Ron threw the bottle over the balcony and pressed a finger to her lips, "hush, Angel". He leaned to her and grabbed her hips, both of them now dripping champagne, "those sweet moans of yours are only for _me_…I would hate it if any of the men heard". He lowered her down onto the chaise lounge outside and began placing lingering kisses down her chest…working down…down her body. Gripping the chaise's armrests, Grace bit her lip and squirmed in ecstasy.

**For Guest 1227, Happy Birthday, dear.**

**Happy Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone reading.**

**Happy New Year!**

**Please let me know what you think….and I am working hard on the upcoming chapters.**

**Xoxoxoxoxo**


	51. Chapter 51

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

Here is a quote I came across that really ties this story together for me:

**"I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels, but for the way the sound of her name silences my demons". **** - Christopher Poindexter**

**Let me know what you think of that, because I think it totally fits.**

**THANK YOU for being so patient with me, loves. I got a new job (can you believe it?!) I am working from home as a free lancer for an Ad Agency…I feel like Peggy Olsen from Mad Men! …Seriously, it is eerily the same.**

**Now assisted by a lovely homemade margarita, I am fine-tuning this for you.  
>I already have the next chapter written as well, so you won't wait long for an update.<br>Slainte, loves….and enjoy…**

"We're moving out in forty five minutes", Grace murmured, looking over her shoulder. She was lying on her stomach with Ron draped over her, his chin resting on her back. "As much as I hate to say it, we have to get up", she assessed passively, gazing at the gold ring on her left finger. Marveling at it, she smiled to herself, appreciating how fast things could change, and _this_ time it had been for the better.

Ron smiled and turned his face to her skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade, "I know". Even though they agreed, neither made any movement as to get up.

"This has been a rather romantic occupation", she remarked as her eyes slid closed at the feeling of his lips on her skin.

"Reminiscent of a honeymoon even…" he trailed off, sensually kissing up her spine. He stopped when his lips reached her ear, pleased to see her skin had broken out in goose bumps.

"I'm not taking it off when we leave", she whispered, speaking of the ring.

"I would never want you to", he assured.

Smiling, she nodded, "ok".

"When can I begin calling you Mrs. Speirs?" his breath caressed her neck as he looked to the band on her left hand; she shivered.

Grinning, she turned to him, "you could've called me that when we first met".

He laughed, "and would that have worked?"

"Who can say?" she shrugged, "I would've been flattered".

"It's not coming on a little strong?" he touched his nose to her jaw.

"No such thing…not when it comes to you", she whispered as he brought his face towards hers and kissed her. Keeping most of his weight off her back, Ron prolonged the kiss, his fingers lightly stroking the skin of her naked back. "We have to go", she breathed against his mouth, her eyes closed, "there are things I need to steal from my room before we leave". He gently moaned in response, and in retaliation, slid his hand over her hip, down under her body, and between her thighs. "Oh…not fair", she mockingly whined, her breath catching. Smiling against her neck, Ron stroked her, enjoying the way her hips moved in time with his hand.

His eyes rolled back and closed as she arched her back up, "Jesus, you feel good".

"God", she echoed, "why are you so good at this?"

"I have the perfect muse", he answered immediately, placing his lips against the nape of her neck.

"Oh", she softly gasped, "you have my permission to do this whenever you want."

"I hope you don't come to regret that, I intend abuse it".

She smiled, her body growing warmer, "I could never".

Ooooooooooo

After gathering her things for the orderlies to haul down, Grace stood at her doorway and silently bid goodbye to her room; she was going to miss the luxury.

"Ready?" his voice inquired from behind her. Sighing, she nodded and turned to him. "Austria…hopefully it stands up to this place", he remarked, his arms circling her waist, taking advantage of their privacy while they still could.

Placing her hands on his chest, she studied his face, "you don't think we'll meet any resistance?"

He shook his head, "no…unconditional surrender, love. They've got nothing left".

"Don't you think that alone might give some of them a reason to resist?"

"Not unless they have a death-wish". Grace smirked, nodding her head, and Ron stroked her cheek, "hey, no one is going to take a shot at you…not unless they _really _have a death-wish and would like to deal _personally _with me". She smiled at him as he leaned in and kissed her sweetly.

Oooooooooooo

Outside, Ron winked at Grace in parting as they separately made their way to the men and their trucks and jeeps.

Walking over to her platoon's truck, she surveyed their progress.

"Lieutenant Grant", Bull greeted her as he climbed aboard.

"Bull", she nodded back, handing him his rifle as he settled into the truck.

"Morning Gracie…" George said, meandering up to her, a grin on his face.

Her eyes narrowing in suspicion at his giddiness, she turned to him, "George…good morning". His unfaltering grin triggered her memory…he had seen her with Ron outside of his room. "George…" she began again, her voice hushed and serious.

"Don't get weird on me, Gracie", he began, holding his hands up, "I'm just giving you a hard time". He started giggling, "actually I think it was _you_ giving a certain _someone_ a _harder _time".

"Jesus", she hissed, annoyed but amused.

"You know my lips are sealed", he asserted, "and it's not because I'm afraid of _you_…no, sir, I am terrified of you-know-who".

"What about Frank?" she asked, knowing that Perco saw it too.

"You kidding? He's more scared than I am", George laughed, "you know I'm only bringing it up to tease you".

"Alright, George, you got your fill of fun yet?" she smiled.

He scoffed, "who am I fooling, I'm just jealous…that's all". Grace laughed with him, her cheeks pink. "Alright, alright", he conceded, "there's my fill". Winking, he pulled himself onto the truck. Beside him, Perco smiled with his eyes wide and gave Grace a little wave. Returning it, Grace smirked and made her way back to the officer's jeeps.

"Grace", Lew called out to her, beckoning her over to a building nearby the idling jeeps.

She walked into the structure, noting that it was probably used as a makeshift storage room. "Hey Lew, you all set to go to Austria?" Off his serious expression and demeanor, she took a breath and altered her greeting, "you alright?"

He nodded and smiled softly, "I wanted to discreetly offer my congratulations", he gestured to her left hand.

Self conscious now of how it could appear to others, she looked to him, "did you see it?...how did you know…?"

Lew shook his head to quiet her fears, "no…he asked me for permission, that's how I knew".

Grace was awestruck, "he asked you?"

"He did, Grace", Lew confirmed, "that man _loves_ you".

She smiled, touched, "I know", she whispered.

"Doesn't mean that I won't hurt him if he hurts you", he nodded, adopting an amusing sense of bravado for humor. Admiring the dimples that appeared on her face, his voice grew serious again, "I'm sorry that your father or Chuck, aren't here for this, Gracie-bird; they're the ones that Speirs should've been asking".

Grace smiled sadly now, growing contemplative with objectivity, "I probably would have never met Ron…if they were still here", she finished quietly. "I'm not saying anything is better than the other…"

Lew gently interrupted her, "I know…regardless, they would be happy for you. And proud of you, for everything that you've done…although I think they'd also be upset." She chuckled with him, both of them knowing how her father and Chuck would be. "They'd only be upset for everything that they've missed…and that seeing you happy is a great privilege", he finished.

"Thank you, Lewis", she breathed, embracing him tightly.

"Anything for you, kid - you know that", he nodded.

Grace made her way back to her jeep - Ron was sitting in the driving seat, Harry and Carwood in the back, sunning themselves.

Hopping lithely into the passenger seat, she turned to look at Ron as he started the jeep. Her heart throbbed, thinking of him humbly asking Lew for permission to marry her. Silently, she said a prayer, thinking of her father and Chuck and how she wished they could meet him.

As he pulled away and followed the trucks, he winked and smiled at her…and she stealthily wove her fingers in with his; their hands entwined and resting discreetly on his lap.

Ooooooooooo

The battalion trucks and jeeps drove peacefully past towns bathed in a golden glow. Majestic mountains loomed above the pristine valley lakes. Everything was clean and devoid of the rubble that they were so accustomed. If Grace had an empty frame on hand, she could hold it up and easily fool herself that she was looking at a beautiful painting.

As they got closer to their destination, civilians even began waving and calling out peacefully to them. It was the very picture of quaint civility.

In front of them, she could hear the men whistle at the pretty Austrian girls who waved at their passing caravan. "Good luck keeping these boys in check", Harry remarked. Grace could hear the grin in his voice as he continued, "God help us with enforcing any sort of rules now".

She laughed aloud with Ron and Carwood as they sped along up a hill.

Pulling up alongside Lew and Dick's jeep, Grace hopped out and the group of officers ascended the large stairway up to the expansive hotel they would be occupying.

Trailing behind Lew as he completed the climb in a macho fashion, Grace stopped at the top and looked behind her at the large lake their new headquarters sat beside. "We'll be comfortable here", Lew asserted confidently.

The multi-storey building on the water was a stunning location for their battalion HQ and a stark contrast to the broken buildings they had been in during their stay in Hagenau. At that time, a simple roof over their heads seemed to be Earth's greatest paradise…that was mere weeks ago; Grace would not have been able to conjure up an image like the one before her now.

As they filed in to scope out their newest digs, Grace turned to Ron, "does this meet your requirements?" she teasingly whispered.

He suppressed a grin and shrugged, "we'll make it work".

Inside, the ceilings had carved crown molding painted in gold. The rooms were wide with tall ceilings and everything was simply dripping in extravagance. This building and its location made the Eagle's Nest look like a quaint summer retreat.

Oooooooooo

After settling into their quarters, with Ron's room once again placed conveniently beside hers with both of their rooms overlooking the lake, they had gathered with the other officers a couple hours later to make their way down to a banquet room. A projection had been set up with unavoidable news regarding the Pacific theater.

"The shit in the Pacific can't go on much longer…not with Germany out of the equation", Harry reasoned as they made their way over to the room.

Navigating through throngs of paratroopers, his body shielding Grace, Ron grunted in response, "I think you'd be surprised with just how long the Japanese can hold out".

"You worried we'll get sent over, sir?" Lip asked.

"I think we'd be crazy _not_ to anticipate something", he answered quickly as they stepped into the room, hazy with smoke.

Walking in and staying in the back once they spotted Winters and Nixon, Grace turned her attention to the screen.

Black billows of smoke invaded the grim image that depicted a jungle. Men hunched down with their weapons at the ready as a narrator's voice cut in:

"The men are primed and ready down in Okinawa, where one of the bloodiest battles is currently being fought. Along the southern defense line, our boys fight fiercely in one of the toughest barrages of the war." Men holding flamethrowers were shown as the exuberant narrator continued, "Each small advance is gained by sheer grit in the face of a suicidal enemy." Grace turned her attention away from the projection and to her men lying around the darkened room, their expressions bleak. _How much longer can this go on_? They just finished the European Campaign with their bodies intact, and now, they were being faced with the prospect of being dropped in a new arena of war. "The going is brutal and our casualties are high, but Okinawa is the next big step towards victory over Japan. A victory that can only be won by work, war bonds, and heroic sacrifice".

Grace fought back a sarcastic snort as the film ended and the lights were turned on.

At once, men stood up and made their way out of the room. The day started lightly, with the men in a sunny disposition…and now, she could _see _the weight of an impending deployment back on their shoulders.

Ron and Grace turned to Dick, Lew, Lip, and Harry nearby.

"So when are we going?" Ron asked bluntly, voicing what everyone was thinking.

"We don't have a date yet", Dick answered honestly.

"Will you tell the men right away?"

Dick shook his head, "some of them will have enough points to go home".

"Not many", Lew interjected, "not if their only medal is a purple heart."

"Most of us here will have enough", Dick asserted, leading their group out of the smoky room, "but each of us will have to decide what to do. I don't know how long we'll wait here for orders…I want all the veterans who are staying and all new replacements ready to fight. That means rifle ranges, that means daily close-ordered drills…above all, that means physical training."

"They're gonna love you", Lew drawled as they made their way outside.

Grace sighed, they had only just arrived, and they were planning to start training for war.

Ooooooooo

In their Class-A's, Speirs ran Easy through a few drills that afternoon, barking orders in his raspy tone.

He stopped them, nodding to Harry who retrieved an empty helmet. Grace held back a bittersweet smirk, knowing what was coming next. "Due to so many veterans lacking the eighty-five points required for a discharge, General Taylor has organized a lottery on this, the anniversary of D-Day." Grace could feel the men shift in anxiety as he continued, "each company will draw one name and that trooper will be granted an honorable discharge." Harry made a show of holding out the helmet that Grace knew, only contained _one _name. "The winner is", he announced, "Serial number 13066266 Sergeant Darrell C. Powers!"

"Shifty!" the men cheered and Grace grinned in his direction.

"That's how it's done, Shifty!" George's voice rang out as the men responded in whistles.

Unfortunately, the congratulations and cheers were short-lived as Ron spoke again, "Lieutenant Grant will see to it that second platoon is in place to guard the cross roads tonight at 2200 and to get supplies from the hospital nearby." Grace grit her teeth, wondering why they didn't have medical supplies on-hand to begin with. "General Taylor has also affirmed that the 101st will definitely be redeployed to the Pacific…so, tomorrow at 0600 hours, we will begin training to go to war".

The ominous silence from the men spoke volumes and Ron hated himself for it.

Ooooooooo

After saying a heartfelt goodbye to Shifty before he set out o go home, Harry, Lew and Grace sat out on the expansive front balcony of CP overlooking the emerald lake, taking in the sun.

"You're gonna get one hell of a sunburn out here, Angel", Harry joked as she closed her eyes and smiled.

"I don't care…a sunburn is better than a _snowburn_ any day", she retorted.

"Cheers to that", he nodded.

"You'd better think twice, Gracie…you've already got a ton of freckles coming out and it's just gonna get worse", Lew pointed out.

Grace scrunched her nose at him as Harry made an announcement, "I've thought about it…and I've got enough points to go home to Kitty…I'm going home".

"Harry", Lew started, "do you really think that Kitty hasn't run off with some 4F by now?"

Grace scoffed as Harry chuckled, "son of a bitch, that's not even funny".

"Just ignore him, Harry", Dick advised, walking up to their trio.

"How am I supposed to explain to Kitty that I had a chance to come home, and I decided to throw it away for a chance to jump on Tokyo?"

"You don't explain anything", Lew easily shrugged. "Besides, she's waited for you for three years…we'll be in Tokyo for two years, three tops, it'll probably be over before we even get there". Grace sat silently, contemplating a jump on Japan. If she did, that would mean she would have jumped in all three countries of the Axis Powers. _God, could they really be there for three years_?

"The reality of it is you'll be stuck in Austria for six months…and I'll be in the States, making babies", he declared.

"You didn't tell them?" Dick asked, squinting in the sun.

"No, I couldn't get _him_ to shut up", Lew clarified. Grace opened her eyes at that, looking seriously at him now, noticing that he was avoiding her gaze.

"Tell us what?" Harry looked at Grace.

Lew gestured to Dick, "Guts and Glory here applied for a transfer".

"What?" Grace whispered.

Dick gave her a soft smile, "Thirteenth Airborne are heading out to the Pacific right away". At their silence, he shrugged, "if I'm going, I want to get it over with".

Grace felt Harry's eyes on her as she looked right to Lewis, "are you in on this too?"

"I couldn't let him go by himself, he doesn't know where it is", he lamely justified.

She kept her eyes on Lew as Harry sighed, "you're leaving the men?" he challenged.

"They don't need me anymore", Dick reasoned.

Ooooooooo

Grace found Ron in his room after leaving Lew, Harry, and Dick. She had left without speaking to Lewis after Dick explained they would get their answer to their application the next day.

Once she learned of their request, she could not shake the thought that Ron might have entertained the same thought…or that maybe he _had_ already.

"Hi", she murmured from his doorway, letting herself in and closing the door.

He looked up and smiled, "I was wondering when you'd find me".

"Lew requested a battalion change…to jump on Japan." Grace began, not wanting to stall and wading into this conversation gently.

"Did he?" Ron asked, intrigued, pausing for a second in his chore of cleaning his M1.

She nodded, "he was following in Dick's footsteps".

"Winters requested a transfer too?"

"Yep". She watched his movements like a hawk. Suspicious since she had found out about Lew, she had one question on her mind: did Ron do the same? _Would_ he request a transfer without telling her? After all things?

"Doesn't surprise me", Ron stated, shrugging. He turned to her, taking in her rigid posture and wide eyes. "Does it surprise you?" he asked quietly, sensing she was disturbed by this.

Shaking her head at his question, she took a deep breath and spoke after a pause, "…would you request a transfer?" Silence. He did not respond, and her heart dropped. "…did you?" she added softly.

"Grace…" he began.

"You need to tell me if you did".

"Would you?" he countered.

"Would I tell you?" she asked.

"…request a transfer then tell me", he clarified.

"Yes - yes to both", she insisted honestly.

"Do you want to jump on the Pacific?" he asked suddenly, paralyzed with fear that she was confessing that she did.

"Only if you are".

"I do not want you to do that", he implored, shaking his head.

"Did _you_ request a transfer?" she inquired again.

"No", he answered, "…but I was considering it".

Grace clenched her jaw, swallowing, "why then?"

"Why am I considering?"

She rubbed her temple, feeling her head start to pound, "no…why, if you're going to jump - why can't I come with you?"

"War zone, Grace…I don't want you to get hurt", he reasoned, incredulous that she wouldn't understand that.

"_You_ could get hurt!" she exclaimed, "I don't want that either". They stood, looking at one another imploringly - realizing that since the significant change in their relationship, their intensity for one another had grown. "If you're going…and if _my men_ end up going, I will be there too".

"I don't want this to change", he expressed, gesturing between them, "you remember how things were before…"

"Before what?"

"The hedgerow, Aldbourne, Bastogne…all that", he said, growing upset.

"Are you saying that you'll go back to ignoring me?" she filled in the blank sarcastically.

"Jesus…"

"I don't think I'm getting crazy here", she started, "all I am saying is that things are different now…and if you're going to Japan, then I am."

"And all I'm saying is that I want you safe - I don't want you anywhere _near _the fighting", he argued, growing passionate, "not now, not when I've asked you to be _my wife_".

"Ron", she said, her voice trembling, "I said yes…that means you're my husband." She watched as he exhaled, he eyes absorbent on hers, "Please, don't make me wait - don't make me wait for you, I've waited enough".

"So have I", he whispered.

"I know", she nodded, "so we should be done waiting. If you're going, I'm going". Her voice broke as she breathed, "_please _don't make me a widow".

Ron's jaw went slack from her impassioned words. Sighing, his eyes slid closed as he bit his lip. He knew her fear, he had lived it too…and with her wanting to jump with him, he was acting on the sole impulse of _keeping her safe_.

"You shouldn't be afraid to go home", he offered.

"What do you mean?"

"New York", he stated, "…are you using this jump on Japan as an excuse not to face home?"

"That's not it at all".

"I would understand if it was…"

"Well it's not!" she exclaimed, "I just don't want you there without me."

"And you've tempted fate enough, I WILL NOT have you hurt!" He shook his head after his outburst, "I am not afraid of my death…but I am terrified of yours". His heart pounding with this sudden rush of adrenaline, he couldn't see straight. "with all this happening still in Japan…with us probably getting redeployed over there…Jesus, maybe I should've waited…", he threw out, thinking out loud, his mind working a mile a minute and not clearly.

Grace's heart stopped, her breathing stopping too at the odd insinuation, "waited?" she breathed to herself.

"…to ask you to…" he turned to her, his stomach dropping, knowing what he was saying was the worst lie to spit out of his mouth and knowing it was too late to stop.

The silence that followed was a haunting one.

Taking a step back and toward the door, Grace gasped breathlessly and clutched her chest, her shirt suddenly feeling like it was choking her.

Ron's body filled with dread and anxiety as he looked at the senseless and selfish destruction he'd caused….for no reason other than to air his own unjustified fear.

"Ok", Grace whispered, stepping back again.

"Grace…" Ron staggered, "I didn't…"

"It's ok", she hushed.

A couple shocked tears skipped down her cheeks and Ron hated himself at the sight. "Please don't go", he urged, knowing she was going to run from him.

She looked up at him then, her eyes brimming with tears - and he comprehended his words could be taken in two different ways. She broke the brief silence with a small, strangled voice, "I'm not taking this off…not until you ask me to…jump or no jump". With that, she turned and walked out of the room silently, and Ron closed his eyes, his chest exploding as he realized she was referring to the ring he had proposed with, the little gold ring that adorned her left hand.

**Thank you for reading and bearing with me!**

**Please review and let me know what you think.**

**Next chapter is an IMPORTANT one and its coming soon.**

**xoxo**


	52. Chapter 52

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**I'm so profoundly grateful for your patience with me that I decided to post this LONG AWAITED chapter on the heels of the last one.**

**Thank you so much for your lovely reviews.**

She played with the ring on her finger as she walked outside. Too numb to feel and too distracted to appreciate it, she kept her face down and away from the spectacular view. His words kept echoing in her mind, taking her breath away…

_I should've waited to ask you…_

_Please don't go…_

She knew he didn't mean what he said…but _how_ could he actually allow those words to pass through his lips? _She didn't blame him_. The pessimistic voice in her head reminded her that this was bound to happen. She should not have believed that everything was going to be easy and wonderful until they were sent home.

Shoving her hands in her pockets, she walked along a stone balcony that overlooked the tree-lined lake. She had just come from the opulent OP2 where her men had been; she had organized three small groups of men, led by her three German speakers: Lieb, Web, and Janovec. They were ordered out to the main road in shifts to oversee leaving and entering vehicles and people. That should keep most of them busy until her next commitment at the crossroads and hospital run later this evening.

Home.

Jesus…what does that mean exactly?

Home had always equated uncertainty. When the thought came into her head, she never was sure that she would actually make it home at all…but now, if the war in the Pacific ended like most thought it would, she would see home before the end of the year.

It scared her. Ron had been right - she didn't want to face New York, her childhood home and all of the dust-covered memories. The house was hers now and it was up to her to do something with it. Sell what she didn't want, move what she did…then sell the house. She _was _going to sell it, there was no way she wanted to live in that huge house alone. Taking a breath at the sudden anxiety she felt, she cursed herself. The idea of dropping on Tokyo was an easy thought…but contemplating the idea of having to return to society was terrifying.

She was too far gone in this train of thought to turn back now. Already feeling melancholy, she was a sucker for going further. Once she got home, what the hell would she do for a living? What _could _she do?

She could shoot a gun…and a bazooka, she smirked humorlessly; she could lead a platoon of men into a battle and keep her head; she could run Currahee; she could write reports; she could drink like a fish.

That's it.

Listing her small resume in her mind, she knew she was shorting herself…but to be honest, in all these years, she never gave herself the opportunity to dream about what she could do on the outside. And now that she had to, she didn't want to.

"Lieutenant Grant!"

Grace turned to the voice that hollered at her, "Webster?"

"It's Janovec", he called out as he ran to her, his face red, "there was a car accident when we were changing shifts".

"Where is he?" she demanded.

He took off again with Grace keeping up with him, back down to the main roads leading into their camp, "I called the medics…they were on their way when I was told to go get you".

Grace and Web ran down the street where the jeeps and trucks were parked. She could see an ambulance parked with its doors open, a stretcher about to be loaded in - her heart stopped as he realized the man on the stretcher wasn't moving.

As she ran to the vehicle, Dick caught up with her, running alongside. "It's Private Janovec", Harry called to them.

Coming to a stop, Web kept behind her as she stepped closer to Janovec's body. "He was dead when they brought him in", Doctor Kemp clarified to her and Dick.

Grace stared down at Janovec's face. He was always so eager, so ready to help. Clenching her jaw, she shook her head at the senseless loss, as a thought blossomed in her mind:

_If they _were_ redeployed, how in the hell could she stomach _more_ of this, _more_ deaths of her men, _her friends.

Across from her, Ron gazed at her features, trying to read her mind.

Doctor Kemp covered Janovec's face with a blanket as he loaded his body into the ambulance.

"Seventy-five points", Wed murmured.

Grace looked over to Web, appreciating the comment of irony and ignoring the souring in her stomach.

"What?" Ron asked.

"He had seventy-five points", Web echoed, looking at Grace, "he was ten points short".

Her eyes skipped to Ron as Web walked away. They both maintained their eye contact, hearts pounding. She didn't know what to say to him, all she knew was that she wanted to hear his voice. He opened his mouth, about to speak, when he was interrupted.

"Lieutenant Grant?" Doctor Kemp turned around after shutting the back doors of the ambulance.

"Yes sir", she responded, her heart sinking as she heard Ron's boots walking away.

"I was told you're headed to the hospital later this evening?"

She nodded, "that's correct".

"Good", he stated, walking around to the driver's side door, "the location of our Aid Station is in the opposite direction. We need morphine and plasma; we weren't sent any when we headed out over here".

"It's like Bastogne all over again", she deadpanned.

He smirked, "don't I know it. If this sort of thing becomes a regular occurrence, we're going to need supplies."

"I understand", she nodded.

He got into the ambulance and closed the door, "just pick up what you can when you're there. I'll send over a medic to meet you there to haul it back to our aid station".

"Yes sir".

"Thank you, Lieutenant", he nodded curtly, pulling away.

Oooooooooooo

Grace had had a full, hard day.

After telling her men at OP2 about Janovec, she spent the rest of the afternoon in their company. Part of her knew her men liked and needed her presence after the shock of losing Janovec…but another part of her didn't want to go back to her quarters and run into Ron. She didn't want that episode yet.

The sun went down and her men went to chow…she didn't go. Instead, she loitered around OP2, admiring the architecture and snooping around until they all came back and it was time for her to deploy groups to the crossroads.

She had decided she would assign this work to the replacements in her platoon. They were eager and needed something to do to keep out of trouble. Once she sent the two groups to patrol, she would take two replacements herself - Private Desmond and Private Boyle - to help her load supplies at the Hospital.

She spent the evening making sure her jeep had enough gas, that her weapon was clean and boots were tied…anything to keep her mind from wandering to Ron. It was childish, she knew…but she also knew that if he wanted to find her, he would know right where to look. They needed space, she justified. If she were actually being honest, she wanted nothing more than to find him and curl up in his bed with him…but she allowed the hurt to set in, and she feared that he had somehow been telling the truth when he said that _'he should have waited'_.

Eventually, the stars came out and her men returned from dinner.

She sent out the two patrols to the crossroads and nodded to Desmond and Boyle, who followed her to her jeep. She jumped in and started it, taking off down toward the hospital.

"Hey Lieutenant", Boyle started, "at chow, the guys were talking about your run with the bazooka in France".

"Yeah", Desmond chimed in, "how you and Lieutenant Welsh took on a Panzer".

Laughing at their excitement, she nodded, "they are correct…that happened".

"So you just picked up a bazooka and ran?" Boyle started for her, wanting to hear more.

"Pretty much", she nodded, unbelieving that it had been nearly a year ago that it had happened - and her men were _still_ talking about it, "we were pinned down in a hedgerow, we were doing a good job of holding our line when Panzers came through theirs, firing at us". Desmond shook his head, whistling as she continued, "they had blown a hole through our line, knocking us down, when I looked over and there it was: the bazooka." She grinned, remembering Harry's willingness to go out there with her, "I grabbed it and turned to Lieutenant Welsh…he ran out there with me, no questions asked".

Their jeep drove along the muddy road, and they passed another jeep containing Major Winters. Grace held her hand up as she passed, he did the same, nodding to her.

"Then you took the bastard out?" Desmond prodded.

She laughed aloud, "if we didn't, I don't think I'd be sitting here telling you about it. It took two shots, but we did it…and managed to high tail it back to our line before we were blown up with it. I dove behind a fallen tree when we got back, and Harry landed on top of me, yelling that I was crazy…I told him that it 'takes one to know one'".

"Jesus", Boyle smirked.

Up ahead, blocking the road, Grace saw two jeeps. One facing her, lights on and engine idling…the other was in the middle of the road, headlights on and engine off. The headlights illuminated a body, still on the road. Standing nearby was a trooper, one of their own, staring as they drove up to him. She narrowed her eyes at the scene, not liking any of it at all.

Grace put the car in 'park' about twenty yards from the scene and got out, feeling the two young replacements beside her stiffen. "Stay here", she ordered calmly, putting her hand on her sidearm. Approaching the jeeps cautiously, she kept her eyes on the trooper who still stood. She recognized him as a replacement…from which company, she couldn't recall. "You ok, Private, you need some help?"

The Private began chuckling, holding his sidearm against his temple and rubbing his head. An alarm went off in her mind as he pointed down to the body lying face down in the road. "They wouldn't give me any gas…Krauts!" he hollered at the corpse, turning around and stumbling back to the other jeep. Grace glared, he was obviously drunk; she held her hand out in back of her to signal her two men to remain where they were. There was no reason to set this drunk trooper off for no reason. "I tried to explain", he continued, slurring, "this fucking Limey wouldn't listen!" Grace's eyes dropped down to another body in the road, half his face covered in blood and mud, her eyes snapped back up to the trooper. "I think he was a major", he lamely said.

Disgusted at this waste of human life, this violent incident, she kept her gaze trained on him and explained, "hey Private, we got a problem here".

His watery eyes landed on her, obviously not understanding the weight of his infraction, "do you have any gas?"

"Why don't you give me your weapon", she countered, needing first to disarm the man who had already illegally shot two others. She had two men of her own to protect here.

"I…I guess I'll just use their jeep", he stated, not listening to her order as he began walking to the idling vehicle, "I don't think they'll be needing it".

"Hey, just a second there, alright?" Grace commanded not wanting him to get away, and reaching for her sidearm as the man spun around holding his.

**POP!**

From just a few feet away, the man fired directly at her.

Grace's jaw fell slack in a silent scream as pain shot violently through her left side. Propelled backwards, she fell and landed on her back on the muddy road.

Vroom!

Through the shock, she registered the sound of the shooter leaving.

"Lieutenant Grant!"

Boyle and Desmond's terrified screams rang out and Grace could hear them running to her position through the blood pumping in her ears. Unable to take a breath, she writhed on the ground, trying to push through the pain - assess the damage and try not to go into shock. Through the fear and ache, she registered the juxtaposition of the cool mud on her back and the wet warmth spreading down the left side of her torso.

Boyle reached her first, "what do we do?!" He called to Desmond who knelt on Grace's other side.

"I don't have an aid kit on me", he answered anxiously, pressing his hands to the wound, "we can't let her bleed out".

"Take me back", Grace managed to choke out, "OP2…call for Doc Roe".

The young replacements looked nervously at one another for just a second before snapping into action.

"Ok, on three", Boyle asserted, "one…two…three". With one man under each arm, they strongly lifted Grace off the road. She called out in pain as they stumbled back into the jeep as fast as they could.

Gritting her teeth on purpose as to not cry out again, Grace attempted to focus on breathing and staying conscious as they sat her in the back.

"I'll drive", Desmond called out as Boyle sat beside Grace, propping her up. They took off immediately, turning around and speeding back to where they came from.

Shaking now, Grace looked down to the deep red pool staining her shirt. She had been shot under her left rib.

"You're gonna be ok, Lieutenant", Boyle urged beside her, "we're gonna get you through this".

Biting her lip as they took a sharp turn, she remained quiet, willing them to OP2 and her men faster. She had to get there and make sure that the bullet had passed through clearly - if it hadn't, she would be in a lot of trouble.

She had been on the other side of a mortally wounded trooper before…now _she_ was the one wounded. She knew the medical facts for this type of injury - she could die from this…it could take mere minutes.

Her heart pounded faster as they skidded to a stop in front of the massive OP2. She had to stop herself from screaming out Ron's name in anxiety. Gasping as the two men lifted her out and jogged to the front doors, Grace fought to control her breathing - black beginning to prick her vision as Boyle kicked through the double doors.

"MEDIC!" Desmond screamed once they burst into the foyer, "call Doc Roe on the radio!"

They had interrupted a card game; Grace heard boots suddenly scrape the floor and she could smell cigarettes and Bull's cigar.

"What the hell?" Christianson shouted.

"Holy fuck - Grace?!" Moore yelled out, beginning the sounds of a commotion.

Breathing hard, Grace spotted a large vacant spot on the floor, "right here", she gasped out. As the men helped her to the floor, she turned her face, "did it pass?" she choked out to the men behind her anxiously.

She felt slight pressure to her side, "no, I don't think so - I don't see an exit wound", Popeye's fearful response rang out.

"Lay her down, nice and gentle", Johnny ordered strictly.

Shaking as they lowered her to the cool marble on her back, a voice spoke in her ear as a warm hand touched her cheek gently, "Gracie-bird, stay with us, ok? It's Tab…I'm here - we're gonna get you through this".

"Perco, run - go grab Speirs!" Bull yelled and Grace felt tears begin to fill her eyes at the sound of Ron's name. The thin band on her left hand burned; she closed her eyes to the bright entrance lights of the crystal chandelier, feeling her tears fall back into her hair.

"Stay awake, Gracie", George urged, "let me see those eyes of yours".

She complied, and using her focus like a laser, Grace grunted in pain, pulling her shirt from her pants at once, exposing her left side and peeling her shirt away from her wound. She knew she had to locate the bullet before it slipped too far out of reach. The Toccoa men, now all around her, flinched towards her at the sight.

"What are you doing, Angel?" Tab's panicked tone was near.

"Wait for Doc Roe", Webster requested anxiously.

"Don't have time", Grace whispered hoarsely, breathing in sporadic pants, preparing for what she was about to do. Poorly biting back a whimper, she cringed as her fingers lithely slipped in and encountered the bullet not too far in.

"Let me do it, Grace", Johnny ordered close by.

"I feel it", she shook her head, noting the tears slipping down her cheeks - both at the intense pain and the extreme concern and panic she felt from the men.

"Jesus, Grace, you don't quit, do you?" Babe's voice shook.

"Where the fuck is the medic?!" Malarkey yelled.

"Who the fuck is responsible for this?" Joe angrily called to Boyle and Desmond.

Desmond responded, "some drunk trooper. We both got a good look".

"He's a replacement", Boyle nodded, "he'd already killed a Brit major and a Kraut when we found him…he got in their jeep and sped off".

"God damnit", Tab seethed.

"Jesus Christ", Grace hissed as she maintained her hold on the bullet, her lip trembling. Beside her, Tab, George, Bull, and Don were kneeling down, her blood seeping into the knees of their BDU's.

As she poorly bit back a sob, Tab grabbed her free hand, noting how hard she squeezed back. "I know it hurts", he offered in a comforting tone, feeling useless and wanting to help her.

"You're doing great, Angel", Don nodded, "you've gone too far to give up now".

"You've got four stars on your jump wings for Christ's sake", Bull agreed.

Squeezing her eyes shut in pain and exhaustion, she heard Joe's voice again, "keep those eyes open, Gracie".

"Stay with us", Babe urged.

"It's just a scratch", Garcia tried to joke.

Her breath coming in shallow pants, Grace half grimaced and half smiled, recalling how Lew had once said that to Harry while they were in Bastogne.

"Does anyone have fucking morphine?" Johnny barked, losing his patience.

"No", Boyle clarified, "we were headed to meet Doc Roe at Battalion HQ to pick some up when it happened, we had to turn around".

Grace gasped weakly, feeling drained, her vision was swimming and she was trying so hard to hold on, to stay with her men for as long as she could; trying not to dwell on the fact that she felt she was losing this battle. "Where's Ron?" she whispered out to whoever was near, her voice hitching in pain and emotion. She needed to see him; she needed to tell him she loved him.

"He's coming, Angel", George assured. He looked to her bloodied left hand, which was shaking and holding onto the bullet - on her ring finger, he saw a band. That was new - he had never seen that before. Looking up to Don, they held a stare - both impacted by the sight and its implications; knowing what it meant and somehow saddened even further.

"Who the hell called for an urgent Medic jeep?!" Nixon's voice broke through the foyer, his boots echoing.

"What's going on?!" Harry barked, seeing blood on the floor and the group of men close together.

"It's Lieutenant Grant…" Johnny began.

"Grace?!" Lew immediately jumped forward, interrupting Johnny, "Jesus, fuck", he cursed as he saw her. Lunging forward to her side, he hissed as he took in the sight of her bloody BDU's, his hands hovering over her body - wanting to help but unsure of what to do.

"Lew", she echoed in a strangled gasp. "It's ok…it's ok, I'm ok", she choked quietly, trying to convince herself as her tears fell down to the floor.

"Grace…oh, Jesus…Grace, stay with us", Harry urged, taking a knee nearby her paling form. "What happened", he demanded protectively, listening as the men recounted the story.

Oooooooooooo

Ron stood in his room, packing more pilfered items into boxes to ship home tomorrow.

"SIR!" Perconte didn't bother to knock, he simply threw the door wide open and yelled out as he did, "sir, Grace has been shot, she's…"

Ron did not allow him a second to finish; he reacted instantaneously, as if he was on fire. He ran out the door and to the staircase, "where?!" his commanding voice bounced heatedly off the walls.

Frank was running after him, "OP2, the front room, Doc Roe is on his way".

Prowling and running through the doors and down the street like a madman, Ron began to breathe faster in terror as he made his way up the stairs to OP2.

The doors were thrown open and he noticed the smeared trail of blood leading to the group of men to the side. He spotted Lewis and Harry, their faces masks of worry as he directly strode forward, the surrounding men parted for him instantly.

"Grace", he gasped, his heart throbbing as he saw her, shaking and pale on the marble floor; horrified by the pool of her blood around her.

Her eyes sparked as she heard his voice, "Ron", she whispered out. Unhesitatingly striding to her, he was immediately blind to everyone else in the foyer the second her small voice hit him. Gone before them was the ever-feared legend, in his place was a man on fire, desperate to save the life of the woman he loved. Sinking to his knees beside her on her right side, he took her free hand in his, glad to feel her squeeze. "I'm sorry", she gasped out, her breath hitching and tears escaping.

Ron shook his head and gently shushed her, lovingly stroking her face as his eyes flew over her pale form before settling on her features, "I'm right here, love…I'm right here", his throat tightened, "there's nothing to be sorry about".

Roe ran into the foyer then, heading straight for the group, "I got you, Grace" he called, kneeling on her left side and unzipping his pack, "you got your finger on the bullet?" Grace nodded and Ron balked, not having seen her fingers _inside_ her wound until now. "That 'a girl, Lieutenant", Roe retrieved a pair of scissors and cut her shirts down the middle. "Now you know what I gatta do".

"You don't have any morphine?" Ron questioned, his voice thick with concern.

"No, that's where I was headed but I had to turn around", Roe responded quickly.

"It's ok", Grace gasped out, "do it", she choked to Gene. She nodded silently and the men noticed her grip on Ron grow impossibly tighter. His eyes were absolutely fierce, his lips pressed tightly together, looking intently at Roe's hands.

Roe gently raised her left arm above her head. His eyes caught hers as she bravely nodded at him then turned her face into her raised arm.

"Hahhh…" her sharp intake of breath was the only noise as Roe began. Trying so hard not to move and under no medication, Grace began shaking all over from the immense pain. Her breath trembling and small mewls escaping her; Ron flinched every time, his eyes tightening and holding her hand, breathing hard.

"She's lost a lot of blood", George whispered, frightened.

"Where the fuck is the aid jeep?" Tab questioned quietly.

All around her, all of the men were quiet. This was a woman before them: a veteran paratrooper, a leader, a fighter, and one of their own; _more_ than a sister. Their knuckles white, all they could do was wait to see if she would come out of this.

"Found it", Gene declared, "that 'a girl, Grace". His dark and knowing eyes swept over her deathly pale form. Her skin had gone white; she had been in pain and therefore responsive, but now, within minutes, she had gone still and her breathing was shallow. No one dared breathe as he silently looked up to Speirs, his gaze holding a guarded appearance, "we've got to get her to the medical staff as soon as the jeep gets here with plasma".

Ron couldn't respond at first, terrified by the idea of her not surviving. He didn't have the expertise or skill to save her, so he spoke addressing the one thing he _could_ control, "who did this?" His voice was a low growl, foreboding.

Before anyone could respond, Grace weakly reached up and stroked his face, getting his attention. She _knew_ where this would lead, "no", she sighed softly, "no more".

Ron looked down to her, feeling powerless as a tear escaped his eye; he knew what she meant by that, "Grace…"

"I don't want….his blood…on _your _hands", her voice caught, a mix of emotion and pain. She felt her body and limbs grow weak as her breathing now came in feeble, shallow gasps; speaking was becoming more difficult, more taxing. Her body felt like she had run Currahee ten times in a row on a hot summer day.

"Stay with me", Ron pleaded, his eyes large on hers, "please". The room grew deadly quiet, the men knowing what they were witness to - that this may be her last moments; that Captain Speirs loved her more than any of them had ever wagered. The only sounds punctuating the deafening silence were Grace's heartbreakingly weak gasps. "I'm so sorry….God, I'm so sorry", he whispered, his throat straining, "please stay with me".

Suddenly feeling cold, Grace fought her hardest to keep her gaze on Ron, on his handsome face. In the back of her mind, registering his expression, she was so sad that he looked so scared. "I…I was gonna marry you", she hushed, tears falling back into her damp hair.

I _will_ marry you", Ron whispered fiercely, protectively.

Blackness winning and pricking at her vision, Grace smiled softly; all she could see was this beautiful man, and there was no other vision she would wish to close her eyes to more. Whatever happened to her now, it was not in her hands. In this moment that tasted of finality, she felt happiness, knowing that she had lived - one thousand times over - she had _lived_…and she had fallen in love with the best man she ever met. "I love you", she breathed, her eyes fluttered before closing, and she grew still.

"Grace…come on", Lew whispered in a strangled voice, urging softly, disbelieving.

Horrified, Ron searched her face, his hand coming up to stroke her cheek as Roe checked her pulse, "heartbeat's still there, but barely".

Ron cradled her face as his vision blurred, "God, please", he murmured quietly.

"Aid jeep is here", Roe announced, a commanding tenor colored his tone, "you're coming with her", he said, as he pointed to Ron. He looked to Tab, "I need your help as well".

Medics ran in from the jeep carrying a stretcher and glass bottles of plasma. Roe swiftly hooked Grace's arm up to the thin plastic tube, holding the bottle upside down in the air. Ron worryingly kept his gaze on her features, his heart hammering harder with anxiety as she didn't stir one muscle as Roe pricked the sensitive skin in the crook of her arm.

Ron, Tab, and Roe gently lifted her body onto the stretcher and Tab grabbed one end, Ron immediately pushed the other medic out of the way and took the other. They stood up and rushed outside to the idling jeep, the three of them with Grace jumping in.

Ron had never moved this fast before, his motions had never been this precise - not even in battle. The only thing running through his mind was: SAVE HER.

The men left in the foyer of OP2 were speechless after the group left with Grace, still and pale on the stretcher.

Breathless, Lew turned to them, his eyes as hard as ice, "I want roadblocks on every road leading out of town. Bull and Malarkey - I want you both to take a squad and one of the witnesses each on a house-to-house search until this bastard is found. Harry, you and me are going to brief Winters". Immediately, every man was on the move. "You get word to me if he's found", he called out over the hustle, "and I want him alive!"

Outside, Ron's blood was roaring like an inferno in his ears. His attention was solely on Grace's pale features, her soft, sporadic breathing; silently willing them to the aid station faster.

"Hold on for me, Grace", he whispered, his throat tight as he wove his fingers in with hers, "stay with me, Angel, stay with me".

Across the jeep, Tab silently watched the scene unfold in front of him. He knew that Grace had feelings for Captain Speirs, he always thought it was innocent and simple. He also knew that Speirs had feelings for Grace…his face gave it away every time she walked into a room since Toccoa. But witnessing this, here, was overwhelming. They had been hiding this for a long time now. Tab had to give credit where credit was due…he said a prayer in his head, hoping to God that she would make out of this…she deserved a good, full life with Speirs.

They made it to the aid station and Roe called out for the doctor on duty. Ron was upset to see that Doctor Kemp wasn't there…on duty was some new face he didn't know. Setting the stretcher gently down on an examination table, Ron kept his fingers around hers, stroking the back of her hand as he studied her face.

The doctor walked up, took one look under the bloody bandage on her left side, and whistled, "Jesus…"

"What?" Ron questioned, his jaw clenched.

"She's not gonna make it", the doctor announced.

Ron's stomach dropped as Gene narrowed his eyes, "you can't operate on her?"

"Not me", the doctor shrugged, sucking on his cigarette and walking away, "you're gonna need a real surgeon…but even you had one, I don't think there's any hope".

Ron pressed his lips together, reeling in his aggression. He turned to Tab, "you find that shooter, I want him alive", he growled. "You're coming with me", he said to Roe.

"What are you gonna do?" Tab asked, his heart pounding.

"I'm gonna go find a surgeon" he announced simply as they carried Grace back out to the jeep.

Oooooooooooo

It hadn't taken him long to shake down anyone who had answers…and now he was outside of the best Kraut surgeon in town, pounding down his door in the middle of the night with his pistol in his hand. He was at a loss as what to do - if this didn't work, is was as if _he _had shot her himself. She needed to live…he needed her to live - and not just to apologize for what he had said earlier; they had an entire life to live together. He was going to grow old with her - and _no one_ was going to take that right away from him.

A light turned on inside and the lace behind the glass moved, revealing an older man in a dressing gown. "Open up", Ron threatened, using his gun to tap the glass, then forcing it open, "come with me".

"Why?" the man asked, clearly confused.

"Get in the jeep" Ron commanded.

"Where are we going?" he asked again, shuffling out towards the jeep.

"The hospital, get in".

The older doctor looked as if he was going to be sick, "if you're going to shoot me, shoot me. If not, put the gun away".

Ron's eyes flashed, not willing to wait any longer, "_get in the jeep, now_".

The man turned to the idling jeep, seeing Roe holding plasma above Grace, "what happened to her?"

"She was shot in the side", he answered.

Ron bit his lip to stop it from trembling, "half hour ago", he admitted. Walking forward, he pushed the doctor toward the jeep, "let's go".

"If you want her to live, you'll help me", the man pleaded, "first, by putting that away". Swallowing, Ron returned his sidearm to his belt and walked to the driver's side, "let me drive…we'll get there faster".

Looking intensely into the doctor's eyes, Ron knew he would do anything this man asked if it meant he could save Grace's life. "Let's go"

Oooooooooooo

Once at the hospital, Gene and the doctor took Grace away from him.

Ron was left standing in a dim hallway, her blood smudged on his hands and on his BDU's.

He stood there, breathless…it was the first moment he had alone to himself since he'd heard his wife had been shot.

_His wife_.

It was like they had already been married…and now, her life was in the hands of a Kraut doctor he had kidnapped by gunpoint in the middle of the night.

_Oh God, please let me have her back…don't take her from me_.

Bowing with his head in his hands, Ron attempted to collect himself, attempted to control his breathing and not pass out from fear.

"Ron", Dick's voice cut through his silent screams and he turned to the sound, seeing Harry and Lew with him. "Is she ok, have you heard anything?"

Ron shook his head, "nothing", his voice was hoarse.

Dick nodded his head, clearly bothered by the event, "I came over in case she was stable…I have to go brief Sink, he's been calling about her every ten minutes since he heard." He looked Ron over, knowing how he must be falling apart. "Ron", he hushed, "justice will be done. She's one of ours…she'll pull through". Ron nodded to him as Dick left.

After a few minutes of silence, Ron looked to Lew, they held a fierce stare, both knowing how the other was feeling. It was a scenario that Ron never thought they would repeat…after Bastogne, he never thought he would have to do this again.

Beside them, Harry lit a cigarette.

Oooooooooo

Time went by…Ron didn't know how much. The only thing that played and replayed in his mind was her pale face, her pained voice telling him she loved him before she closed her eyes.

"Captain?" a voice with a German accent called out. Ron spun on his heels to face him, his heart in his throat. The doctor nodded, "she is stable…you can see her in an hour after she's rested". With that, he disappeared behind the doors once more.

Breathless, Ron stood there, panting, his heart hammering in his ears.

"Sirs?!" one of the Privates who was with Grace earlier burst in through the opposite doors, "we found him".

"Where?" Lew growled.

"He's being held at OP2, sir, with second platoon", he answered quickly.

Ron turned to look at Lew, a hard edge in his eye. Lew nodded to him, his voice low, "you go do what you need to do".

With that, Ron was out the door and in a jeep headed to OP2. The Private who drove with him sat rigidly and said nothing.

Ron left him in the jeep and stalked out, heading directly inside the open doors.

Taking his sidearm out of his belt, he prowled down the main hallway, following the only sounds in the place.

Bursting though a pair of glass doors, he found Tab and Luz smoking. They stood up immediately at his presence. "Where is he?" Ron demanded.

"Lieutenant Grant…" Tab began.

"Where is he?" he asked again.

"Is she ok?" Tab countered.

"WHERE IS HE?!" Ron bellowed in his face. Tab nodded his head toward an adjacent door, his eyes wide with fear. Kicking through that door, he found Grace's men surrounding a wooden chair, their fists red and out of breath, they stopped their motions as soon as he entered the room. Ron didn't care what they did to the Private, he only had eyes for him. "This him?"

"That's him", Bull confirmed, "replacement…I Company".

"Where's the weapon?" Ron asked calmly, feeling the men's anxiety spike.

"What weapon?" the beaten trash in the wooden chair spat back.

Like lightening, Ron's arm flew out, pistol-whipping him violently. "When you talk to an officer, you say 'sir'", he dryly commanded, feeling the man's blood on the side of his palm.

Breathing hard, his eyes fixated on the man's face and hearing his wheezing breath, Ron was _flooded_ with searing hate.

How _dare_ this man breathe when Grace was fighting for her life.

Pointing the gun at the filth's face, Ron felt the men bristle slightly, some backing away. His gaze was fierce, unbroken on the bloody face of the man who _shot_ _her_.

_"I don't want his blood on your hands"._

The gun slightly shaking, he could practically _feel _her fingers stroke down his cheek, and he bit his lip to keep it from trembling as her voice echoed through his mind.

He allowed himself to imagine pulling the trigger, squeezing just a half an inch to quench the intense thirst he had for blood in this moment.

Instead, he lowered his sidearm, making sure to wipe the blood off on the man's disheveled uniform. Taking a breath, Ron pulled off his garrison cap. Surrounding him, he could feel the collective sigh from the men; the tension in the room lessening one degree.

Standing there and glaring at the wheezing, beaten man in the chair, he recognized the change Grace made in him. One year ago, he would have shot this poor excuse for a trooper without question. Hell, he would have shot him even if he had _thought_ of hurting her.

Here, now - her words, her request to keep his hands clean - Ron realized that she had managed to save _him_. Without her, he didn't know what he'd be; he didn't want to know.

"Get the MP's to take care of this piece of shit", he growled dangerously, turning away before he gave into the itch…and to get back to Grace's side as soon as possible.

"Grace…" Talbert inquired worriedly, the men silencing at once.

Ron turned to them, taking in their protective and concerned expressions. "No", he corrected gently, "the Kraut surgeon said she's going to be ok". Nodding at the men as they all breathed out a larger sigh of relief, he stalked out the doors.

If she _had _slipped away from him and died, that I-Company bastard's entrails would have been decorating the entire country of Austria.

**Ah!**

**Please, please review.**

**I have been salivating, thinking of posting this chapter!**

**Thank you for reading! XOXOXO**


	53. Chapter 53

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

"**A WOMAN CAN'T CHANGE A MAN BECAUSE SHE LOVES HIM…A MAN CHANGES HIMSELF BECAUSE HE LOVES HER".**

The love had evaporated from his eyes now…his expression was void of compassion as he stalked deliberately away from the bloodied man who _shot her_. He had contained himself long enough to fulfill his promise to her that he would not kill that man; he had controlled his rage in time to inform her men that she was alive and stable.

Now, however, with his blood roaring in his ears, he imagined everything he _wanted_ do to that I-Company replacement…he cursed and spat as he walked in the direction of the jeeps, damning himself. _He had promised he would not kill him_…the reasonable voice in his head reminded…_she didn't want that blood on his hands_. His heart swelled with pride that he had been able to do right by her…but the love he had for her cringed without the satisfaction of revenge; a satisfaction he had allowed himself time and time again before.

Like a predator descending upon his prey, Ron narrowed his eyes in the darkness, his fists clenching as he imagined his hands around the throat of that man. Daggers shown out from his gaze as he listed every single barbaric and medieval way to cause prolonged pain. He wanted _desperately_ to go back and _hurt_ that man…to skin that piece of filth alive.

Feeling helpless, he began to breathe harder, nearly grunting as he approached a row of trucks and jeeps. _If only he had something to throw_.

Automatically, his itching hand fluidly retrieved his sidearm. Cocking it at once, he aimed and fired at a lone jeep, shattering the windshield and emptying the gun. Catching his breath after the shells had hit the wet dirt, he put his sidearm back into his belt and squeezed his eyes shut as tears skipped down his cheeks, his throat feeling raw. How could this have happened to her? The war in Europe was over - why did this happen? He should have known better…he should have known that free time, pilfered booze, and idle weapons would make for the perfect storm. He should have known that _Grace_, of all paratroopers would have _this_ kind of luck.

_I love you_, her weakened voice echoed in his mind.

"Grace", he whispered hoarsely, grabbing a set of jeep keys from his pocket, jumping into the one he shot up and taking off towards the hospital; the sound of glass cracking under the tires going unheard in the darkness of the deserted road.

Making it to the hospital, miraculously in one piece, Ron leapt from the jeep and strode in through the double doors and down the corridor - to the one room that had a dim light shining from under the doorway.

Gently, he entered the room - somber and silent. His eyes fell on her still body in the bed, appearing small and covered in a blanket. Lew sat beside her in a chair, holding her hand.

Lew's tired face turned as soon as the door opened, "Ron", he greeted evenly, his voice hoarse. Ron remained silent, his eyes fixed on Grace's pale but relaxed face as he walked forward to her bed. "Did you…"

Ron interrupted him, "how is she? What did the doctor say?" his own voice rivaled Lew's in hoarseness.

"That Kraut doctor you found was a miracle worker", Lew explained calmly, "he said she was incredibly lucky. The bullet never made it to the abdominal cavity…he said he didn't know how that was possible considering the distance of the bullet and all that, but it happened. It only passed through muscle…never even nicked an organ. Absolute fucking miracle." Ron closed his eyes briefly in reprieve as Lew continued, "she lost a lot of blood…but she's stable now. She should be awake in the next couple days and up and out of here in the next few weeks if she's _really _lucky".

"Thank you", Ron responded, nodding, "for staying".

"Of course", Lew said, his eyes inspecting Ron's stance. "Has the shooter?..."

"The men found him…I ordered him over to the MP's".

Lew paused stroking Grace's hand, "you…did you…"

Interrupting him again, Ron's piercing gaze fixed on Lew's face, "I didn't kill him…as much as I wanted to. I still want to", he swallowed. "The men beat the ever-living shit out of him before I got there", he murmured.

"Good", Lew grunted.

"I pistol-whipped him as hard as I could….pointed my gun to his face, but…" Ron trailed off absently, staring at Grace - trying to impart to himself that she was _here_ and _breathing_. _I promised her I wouldn't_. He wanted nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare; wake up in his bed, with her beside him, and the sun shining on them both.

"You did the right thing", Lew nodded, gauging Ron's tightening expression, "as much as it hurts", he added. Silence fell between them then. Ron walked to the other side of Grace's bed as Lew watched him. "Harry and Dick were here until just a few minutes ago", he informed quietly, "Sink was with them too….shaken up, but they were all happy to hear she was alright". Lew's eyes followed Ron's fingers as he reached to Grace, his hand stalling in the space between.

"What could I have done…" he began softly; so soft that Lew wasn't sure he'd heard him, "I could've done something different so that this didn't happen."

Lew knew where this was headed, "Ron…" he began gently.

"She didn't need to be the one to go the crossroads or the hospital", Ron's sorrowful tone was incredibly quiet and subdued as he spoke, his eyes never leaving Grace's features. "I have been over _every single moment_ of today…every single thing I did wrong and could've done differently." He squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself as he thought of their earlier argument and the horrid lie he spouted before thinking, "Jesus, I nearly lost her again".

"She is alive and she will heal completely", Lew imparted sincerely and seriously, "you did everything right. The doctor said if one more minute had gone by, she would have bled out." He stood up from Grace's side, squeezing her hand, ready to leave them alone for the night, "Ron…you saved her". Smiling at Ron's exhausted and shocked expression, Lew bent down to Grace and kissed her cheek, "goodnight Gracie-bird, rest up". He spoke as he walked to the door, "you're staying the night?"

"Of course I am", Ron responded immediately.

"I'll make sure Easy is taken care of in the morning", Lew nodded. He was about to walk out the door, but he stopped and held his hand out to Ron, "thank you, Ron. You saved her life tonight". Numb, Ron accepted the handshake and Lew nodded again, "night", he said, closing the door behind him.

Feeling like he had been hit by a bus, Ron turned away from the closed door and back to Grace.

Gingerly taking Lew's vacated chair closest to her bed, he reached for her hand, clasping it firmly in his. He took the time to fully inspect...appreciate and commit to memory…her features, the color of her hair, the dotting of freckles across her face, the whiteness of her skin. She had been cleaned up since he saw her last. No mud in her hair or caked on her BDU's; she was now wearing an ivory hospital gown. He looked to her hand in his - the blood that had been dripping off them was gone. All was clean, and the band around her left ring finger shined up at him brightly.

He bit his lip and exhaled at the wave of gratitude that washed over him like a tidal wave. Tears sprung to his eyes as his gaze settled on her face once again.

Leaning over her body, he gently placed his lips to her cheek, whispering softly, "I love you Grace, I love you so much". Breathing in her scent that was muted by the smell of bandages and foreign linen, he felt his tears slip off and fall into her hair. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for what I said today - about waiting to ask to you to marry me. I've told many lies…but that, by far, the worst one I've ever said. God, I'm so sorry". Ron pressed his lips to her hair, her forehead, her cheek, then one gentle kiss on her lips before leaning back. His hand cupped her face, and then slid down her neck as he watched her breathe - evidence of her life. His hand then faltered in the air, hovering over her bullet wound hidden beneath bandages and blankets. His gaze brimmed over with tears again as he shook his head, "I feel like I don't deserve you"; he confessed quietly, "have since we met". He grew quiet then, unmoving, gazing into her tranquil face as tears slipped silently down his. Bringing her hand up, he held his lips to her skin as he tried to welcome to feeling of relief. _She is alive and will heal completely_.

Ooooooooooooo

"_Jumped on with the Royal Army Medical Corps in 1940…..transferred to the 127__th__ Parachute Regiment to serve with the field ambulance there…"_

Colonel Sink…?

In the deep, heavy fog of Grace's mind she swore she could hear Sink talking to her.

"…_discharged in May and sent to us one week ago."_

'Yes, sir', she tried to respond, but she didn't hear her voice. Hadn't she had this conversation before? Where was his voice coming from?...he sounded like he was talking from another room.

"…_signing you into the 101__st__ Airborne, 506__th__ 2__nd__ Battalion….Easy Company"._

'Sir', she tried again. Why did she hurt all over? Where was Ron?

"_I'm officially making you a First Sergeant"._

"Lieutenant?" A voice spoke from somewhere very far away. Where was she? Everything was dark.

Déjà vu hit her like a train - she had felt this before. This felt eerily similar to her waking up in that blown out barn in Foy. Terror surged through her then, as she couldn't move. Her breathing caught as she tried to sit up, tried to look around, tried to communicate.

"Ron?" Did she speak? It sounded like she did, but it echoed, as if she were whispering his name down a well.

"Easy, Lieutenant - I'm giving you something to sleep", a soothing voice spoke above her.

"Is that ok, doc?"

Tab?

"She needs to rest, it'll speed up the healing", Gene answered.

"We love you, Grace", George's voice cooed.

"Rest up", Malarkey whispered.

She heard the murmurings of others before feeling a slight pressure, and then she faded back to unconsciousness.

"She asked for Speirs", Tab noted, looking to the other men, "did you hear that?"

"The _one_ time he wasn't nearby…figures", George nodded as Malarkey squeezed Grace's pale hand, getting up from the nearby chair.

Gene looked her over then turned to the troopers who were hesitating to leave, "will you go and find Captain Speirs and ask him to find me as soon as he can? She's been restless off and on today…it's only a matter of time before she wakes up….he requested to be here."

The men nodded and made their way outside to the jeep they had taken over to the hospital.

In the afternoon sun, they drove back to barracks and CP. It had been almost four days since she had been shot. Her men had made sure she had someone in her room in case she woke up. Captain Nixon had made sure she wouldn't be left all alone. After the incident, Sink had gone on a tirade, making sure all replacements were kept under tight supervision and that curfews were enforced.

To all of the men who were witness to the incident however, Captain Speirs made Colonel Sink look like a kitten in comparison.

None of them were surprised by his behavior - in fact, most remarked that they would do the same - but one thing they _all_ agreed on, was how astounded they had been that Speirs _lowered _his weapon after it had been pointed at the replacement who shot her. Since that night, Speirs had only been around for drills and the like. No loitering, no looting, no drinking. He looked like he was barely sleeping.

"Who wants the honors of going in there to tell him?" George snarked gently from the back seat as Tab pulled the jeep up to Company CP.

Malarkey sighed, "I don't blame him for looking so worn out…I mean, Jesus, I couldn't imagine."

"He requested to be there, so someone's got to tell him", Tab reminded them.

"Requested my ass", George shook his head, "_demanded_ is more like it." He smacked the back of Don's chair, "could you imagine what _that_ looked like?"

"I would've done the same", he responded.

"I'll tell him", Tab decided confidently, keeping the jeep in idle and jumping out. "You might want to get out", he advised to Don and George, "how many packs you want to bet that he comes running out here…and takes off in that jeep whether you're in there or not."

"Good point", Don nodded as he hopped out.

Tab ran into the large building and up the staircase, hearing some noises come from the third floor. Once he reached the landing, he saw the origins of the noise: Captain Speirs was supervising a few orderlies. They were finishing up placing Grace's things into her room, which was directly beside Speirs'. Tab knew that before now, her things had been in Battalion HQ under Colonel Sink's supervision.

Speirs turned as soon as he heard someone stop, "Talbert", he spoke at once, his eyes narrowing in acknowledgment.

"You busy, sir?"

"I'm all finished here", he remarked, "you're dismissed", he called to the orderlies who nodded and walked out. He gestured to her things, "trying to get ahead of the game…in case she comes home early".

_'Comes home'…_Tab didn't attempt to suppress his smirk at the Captain's words, "you might be in luck, Doc Roe asked me to fetch you…"

Ron interrupted him, his eyes wide "did she wake up?"

"Not yet, sir", Tab clarified, "Doc Roe said it shouldn't be long now".

Grabbing his garrison cap from his belt, Ron strode past Tab and down the stairs, "thank you, First Sergeant Talbert", he spoke honestly to him when they reached the bottom.

"Absolutely, sir", Tab answered as they walked outside.

"Sir", Don and George greeted him at the same time. Without speaking or looking at them, Ron nodded to them, starting the jeep at once, taking off toward the hospital.

"Told you", Tab smirked, watching the dust from the jeep's tires spiral into the air.

**THANK YOU SO MUCH for your patience.**

**I was going to take this further, but I wanted to post something for you all as a THANK YOU.**

**I have another chapter in the works.**

**Please let me know what you think.**


	54. Chapter 54

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

The sky was glowing blue when she woke up.

The first thing she noticed was how the ivory blanket draped on her appeared neon in the extremely early hour of dawn. The room was cool and she felt sore, achy; deep down and all over.

The second thing she noticed was his warm hand wrapped gently around her left one.

Curiously, and to her rooted amusement, her gaze blurred as she looked upon his sleeping figure, where he wore an exhausted and relaxed expression. Tears skipped down her face as she studied the purple smudges under his eyes and the days' worth of scruff on his jaw. _She had woken up first again_, she thought sentimentally. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever woken up to…before she had lost consciousness, she believed she would never see him again.

Her breath hitched audibly as his eyes fluttered open and landed on her.

His eyes turned glassy as he looked at her, at the tears skipping down her cheeks. Ignoring his instinct and refraining from enveloping her into an embrace, he silently held her gaze as he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her skin. She sighed and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears escape down his cheeks. Who did he have to thank for this blessing? How could possibly repay whoever made this possible…made her life possible?

Opening his eyes and leaning forward, his hand gently cupped her jaw. He opened his mouth to speak, but was at a complete loss as what to say. No words existed to explain accurately how he felt.

Instead, he looked at her and smiled.

She smiled back at him, tiredly.

"I love you too", he whispered softly, as he swallowed a wave of emotion, "you said you loved me before you closed your eyes that night…I didn't get a chance to respond."

Gently laughing, noting the pain in her abdomen, she put her hand on his, "Ron…"

He interrupted her smoothly, "are you alright? How do you feel?"

Taking a measured breath to assess her pain, she shrugged lightly, "I'm so tired, but I'm ok. I'm alive".

Smiling through tears, he nodded, "you are…thank God, you are".

She brought his hand to her lips and placed a kiss on his skin, "how long have I been asleep?"

"A few days", he answered as she sighed, realizing why she felt so groggy. "I missed you", he confessed.

"It happened so fast…I didn't think that…that this would happen", she started, trying to decipher what had happened when she was shot.

"You don't have to explain".

"He was in the middle of the road…he had killed those other officers", she remembered, "…one was a British Major, did you know that?"

He nodded, "I did…the privates who were with you told us everything".

"Boyle and Desmond", she murmured, "are they ok…are my men ok?"

"Everyone's fine".

"What happened to the replacement…what happened to him?"

"Handed over to the MP's", Ron stated evenly.

"Who found him?" she asked.

"Your men found him…I wasn't told _who_ specifically".

"My men found him?" Ron nodded and she continued, her voice colored with a knowing tenor, "did they…"

Ron kept his eyes on hers, wanting to be honest, "when I got there, they had roughed him up".

Grace studied his face, knowing he was being generous with the term and understanding the restraint it had to have taken him to not severely harm or kill the man who nearly killed her. "How did you walk away?" she asked softly, wondering to herself if _she_ could have done that if the tables had been turned.

"It took everything in me", he said simply, "everything. But I had to get back to you".

"Thank you", she murmured.

"Anything for you, I mean that". Ron leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers; Grace sighed into the gentle kiss.

"When you came to me…when I was on the ground inside OP2", she started after a moment of silence, remembering through the haze of that night what she had said, "…I had to see you, to speak to you…and I didn't even _think_ about the men who were there and…"

"I know what you're thinking, and it's alright, I promise", he soothed, knowing for certain none of the men cared what she had said - only that she was alive, "love, you just woke up…you need to take it easy. Everything is alright…and the most important thing is that _you're_ alright". After kissing her cheek, he looked at her and took a breath, unable to hold back his remorse any longer, "Grace…what I'd said earlier that day…please forgive me." His eyes studied hers, "I _will_ marry you, I have always wanted _only_ you. There is no one else for me in the world - no one. I love you, Grace". Grace's eyes filled with tears once again as she smiled at him. Ron continued after taking a deep breath, "I have almost lost you too many times to count." He frowned as his gaze blurred again, this time while he focused on the ring adorning her left hand, "how are you still here with me?"

"Because I love you", she whispered. "I love you…and it's ok, it's ok what you said".

"It's not", he clenched his jaw.

"Ron…"

"No, its…it's not ok", he breathed shakily, his hand lightly dragged down her neck, and then pulled away. "I did not mean what I said…I was terrified at the prospect of you jumping on Japan", he began unsteadily, looking over her face, "Grace…I don't deserve you." She frowned and in reaction, leaned forward, which caused her to wince in pain. "Please don't hurt yourself", he fretted. "I'm sorry…Jesus, I'm always sorry…I'm always apologizing to you…I'm always hurting you…in one way or another." She was shocked as she listened to the desperation in his quiet voice, "this isn't fair to you…_I _have not been fair..."

"Ron, you listen to me", she sternly spoke, "none of this is your fault…none of it."

"I sent you down to the hospital…I put you in the line of fire…"

"Stop it", she commanded in a calm voice, "This is not on you. We could not have predicted this…please don't say that…please." They intensely gazed at one another as she continued, "I'm here and I'm ok. And I am here with _you_…I'm here with you because I want to be." She looked into his eyes, onto his features as she squeezed his hand, "I love you".

"I love you too", he breathed, "you know that?"

"I do", she nodded confidently, "and I know that you have to stop blaming yourself for everything that happens to me…especially this. We are in this together. Please don't pull away from me…not after everything we've been through".

Ron bit his lip to keep it from trembling, "I won't…I'm here, love…I'm not going anywhere". They smiled at one another again, their postures relaxed. He leaned forward again and kissed her softly, "I'm supposed to be taking care of you, not keeping you awake…"

"Don't worry about it", she assured, "I don't think I could sleep now if I tried".

"Are you in pain?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes, but it isn't unbearable", she clarified.

"You should try to sleep".

"I'd feel better if you were lying next to me", she whispered.

He smiled tenderly, "I don't want to hurt you…"

"You won't, I promise", she began to shift her body to make room on the full-sized bed for him.

"Be careful", he commanded, "please don't hurt yourself". Wincing slightly, she gently righted the blankets and looked to him as he got in bed with her, using great care as to not shuffle her. He remained still and allowed her to curl herself around him. Before she had woken up, they had disconnected most of the lines and tubes that were in her…all she had left was an I.V. for fluids. They laid comfortably together, breathing in and out in the stillness of the morning, watching the sun begin its rise in the East. After a while, he felt her shift, then hiccup. He grew alarmed then, realizing she was crying. "Grace?" his worried voice soothed.

"I'm sorry", she whispered.

"Don't be sorry, it's alright", he assured, "are you ok?"

"Yes", she breathed. "…I was so scared", she murmured after a second.

His heart fell through his chest at her small voice, "oh, Grace…I know." He carefully cradled her, feeling her try to push herself closer to him, "be gentle with yourself".

"I want to be closer to you", she hiccupped again.

"I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere…you need to let yourself heal". He scooted closer, his fingers dragging through her hair, "I was scared too". He happily admitted that fact; he had encountered that crippling fear more than once. "I was terrified, everyone was…but Doc Roe got you the help you needed. You're here, and I am not going anywhere".

Oooooooooooooo

A few quiet and peaceful hours later, the sun had come up and Ron needed to go to report for morning drills with their company. He fidgeted slightly in the bed, not wanting to wake her _or_ leave her.

"I know you're awake", she whispered, a smile in her voice, "I can feel you moving".

Ron smiled, "I don't want to leave".

"You have drills to lead, Captain".

He sighed, unsurprised that even wounded and mending, she knew what was going on, "you are correct, Lieutenant".

Squeezing his torso with her arms with what strength she had, she sighed in response. "What do you think it will be like when we don't have drills and no one to refer to us as 'Captain' or 'Lieutenant'?"

He smirked, dragging his fingers through her hair, "I can't wait to find out", he whispered, "although, I may refer to _you _as Lieutenant for the rest of our lives".

He felt her begin to giggle, then breath slowly to stop herself, "that's ok with me, _Captain_". Gingerly, she sat up with Ron's help, "it hurts to laugh", she commented.

"I'll make sure Luz doesn't come to see you until you're healed", he snarked.

She held her hand out on his chest, "don't make me laugh", she smiled.

"I apologize", he murmured.

"I don't want to know how it will feel if I sneeze", she wondered aloud as he carefully climbed out of her bed and righted his BDU's.

"Are you ok? Do you want me to send someone over to you for the morning?" he asked, gauging her appearance. Her skin had gotten its color back, her bandages had been changed and she was beginning to look like herself.

"I can manage the morning alone", she nodded, "say hello to the men for me….never thought I'd be jealous of them doing morning drills".

"I know what you're thinking…but you have to stay in bed for now at least. We can talk to Doc Roe and Doctor Kemp about when you can come back to CP", he said in a measured voice, leaning down to kiss her.

"I ran Currahee a week after getting a bullet through the shoulder", she reminded him.

"And you tore your stitches doing it".

"They tore when Sobel made me run the training course…_twice_".

"Don't make me order you to stay in bed", he playfully warned.

"You can order me to do that all you want when I get discharged back to CP", she countered, grinning.

"I know you're feeling better because you're torturing me". They smiled tenderly at one another when he made his way to the door, "I love you".

"I love you", she whispered back.

"Door open?" he asked, lingering in the doorway.

"Sure", she nodded, smiling at his face, then watched as he retreated down the corridor.

Taking a measured breath, Grace lifted her hospital gown to look at the bandage around her waist. She softly placed a hand on her wound, feeling the dull ache there that was beginning to grow. Soon, she would need more pain medication.

It felt like a terrible dream, really. She could not believe that had actually happened - it was so quick. But here she was, evidence of the incident.

Outside she could hear a few jeeps and some masculine voices. She wished then that the hospital was closer to CP and the men's barracks…what she would give to hear all of them doing drills outside. She was a terrible patient, she knew this about herself.

She studied her single room: the I.V. stand on her right, a large chair on her left; there were four other chairs pushed against the far wall by the door - no doubt some of her men had visited her and dragged in other chairs. At the foot of her bed was a table with a pitcher and a glass of water. Grace choked up when she saw nearly a dozen little glasses lined up with a variety of small flowers balanced in them. She smirked, recognizing the flowers from those outside OP2 and down near the lake. The men must have picked them and come up here.

"Lieutenant Grant?" an accented voice spoke gently from the door.

"Yes?" Grace responded, looking at the older man in slacks and a sweater.

He walked in a few feet, smiling softly at her, "I am the surgeon who worked on you. I am glad to see you awake".

Grace wondered when the hospital acquired a German surgeon; she had assumed that Doctor Kemp had received her that night. "Doctor, thank you very much", she said gratefully.

"Doctor Weiss", he clarified, "I was told by your medic that you should be waking up and I wanted to check your progress myself".

"Doctor Weiss", Grace smiled, greeting him. Understanding from his words that he wasn't actually assigned here, she asked anyway to be sure, "you don't work here?"

"No, no…your captain was _adamant_ that you received the best care", he said, smiling shyly and Grace noted to herself to ask someone how they got this doctor. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore", she responded, "but other than that, I'm fine…considering the circumstances."

"Good, good. I will make a note with the doctor here to have a nurse give you pain medication to help with the soreness". He smiled again, nodding, "it was good to meet you, Lieutenant, you will make a speedy recovery".

He made to leave her room and Grace called out to him, "Doctor Weiss…thank you. Thank you so much".

"It was my pleasure, Lieutenant", he nodded, then walked away.

Grace was left with her thoughts and questions then…but not ten minutes later, Gene came into her room, knocking on her door softly, interrupting her train of thought.

"Grace? How are you? How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes skipping over her form.

"I'm ok, Gene, I'm sore but I'm ok", she said, smiling, "it's good to see you".

He smiled back, "I must say, it's good to see you too, Lieutenant, you had us worried".

"Yes", she nodded, "…didn't see that one coming".

"Nobody does", he answered. "I'm here to give you some pain medication".

"Thank God", she breathed, "it's beginning to get annoying."

"I bet", he laughed gently as he pushed a syringe into the thin tube connected to her arm.

"Thank you, Gene", she said sincerely, "for helping me that night. There's no other medic I wanted to see more".

"Don't mention it, Lieutenant", he bashfully shook his head and Grace smiled, knowing this was the most he was going to take as far as 'thanks' went.

"I met the German doctor", she announced after a beat, realizing that Gene could answer her questions.

"He came in here?"

"Just before you did, he said he was the one who worked on me. I assumed Doctor Kemp had been here".

Gene shook his head, "Doctor Kemp had been off duty that night…it was another doctor, I didn't know him, he took one look at you and said he couldn't do anything…that there was no hope".

"Jesus, are you serious?"

He nodded gravely, "oh yes".

At his silence, Grace shrugged, ignoring the ache in her side at the movement, "well then, what happened? How did you manage to scrounge up a _surgeon_?"

"I'm not sure if I should go into it", his voice lowered as he looked at her, then sighed, "Captain Speirs and Talbert loaded you onto the jeep right after…Talbert went with the men and I went with Speirs. We went to a few places he knew of, he ended up getting the surgeon's name and address from someone." Grace knew the holes in Gene's story were code for _'he threatened anyone and everyone for information'_. "He drove the jeep to the surgeon's house and took him here".

"That simple, huh?" she smirked sarcastically.

"No", Gene answered and left it there. "Alright, you know the drill - no heavy lifting, no running, jumping, any of that until you get the all-clear from Doctor Kemp."

"When do you think he'll clear me for discharge so I can go back to CP?"

"If you're good, maybe in as little as two weeks", he guessed.

She pursed her lips, not liking that answer, but not about to argue with it like the rest of her men would. "Thanks, Doc, for everything…thank you".

"Absolutely, Lieutenant", he nodded, making his way to the door, "if you need anything, you call on me". She nodded back to him and he smiled, "I'll make sure to send your regards to the men".

"Thank you".

"Don't mention it".

Oooooooooooo

The pain medication that Doc Roe had given her knocked her out soon after and she awoke to a knock on her door a few hours later.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Grant?"

Grace rubbed her eyes and looked to the door as she sat up, swearing internally at the pulling she felt from her abdomen. "Yes?"

The young orderly walked in, a hat-box-sized package in his arms, "package for you, Lieutenant, from the states".

"The states?" she murmured.

"Yes ma'am", he said, "um…is on the bed alright?"

Grace nodded absently, looking bewildered at the box, "thank you". The orderly said his thanks and left, leaving her alone.

She recognized the box. The last time she had seen it, it was in her father's first office at the airfield hospital in England in 1940.

For a few minutes, she simply stared at it. It looked the same, no stains or wear and tear. The hat box had been her mother's; her father had taken to using it as a keepsake box. She wondered if it still smelled the same.

On top, there was a letter addressed to her from the airfield.

**Attn: First Lieutenant G. Grant  
>101st Airborne, 2nd battalion, Company E.<strong>

**Lieutenant Grant,  
>I hope this letter and its accompanying package finds you well. It was only able to be sent now that the war in Europe is over and the lines of communication are open.<br>Enclosed are your father's possessions as well as some of your brother's that were left at your old station in England.  
>We tried to locate them, but were saddened to hear they were no longer with us. I cannot, however, say that I am surprised to see you are a First Lieutenant for the American Paratroopers. I remember you fondly from the hospital where your father first worked in England in 1940.<br>I heard of your battalion and company's contribution to the Battle of the Bulge, and I must say, I am happy you made it through.**

**Wishing you the best of luck,  
>Major B. Culpepper, PhD.<strong>

Grace was touched. She remembered Doctor Culpepper - he was the head of the hospital that she first worked at with her father while Chuck was training with the RAF. He was a sarcastic man who she found delightfully refreshing. She was amazed that he had kept this box over all these years; she would have to write him back to thank him.

Gently, she untied the sturdy string from around the box and opened the lid. Inside were a few papers that Grace determined were of legal matters, one was even her father and mothers' wedding license.

Beneath the papers were some photos. Grace gasped as she pulled one out. She remembered taking this one. It was the summer of 1939, Chuck was getting ready to go to England. They were in Lew's backyard - the three of them: Chuck, Grace, and Lew. She was in a skirt and sweater in the middle posing with her tongue out at the camera and her arms around both of their shoulders. Chuck was on one side of her with one arm around her and one holding a football, and Lew was on her other side with his arm around her and he was looking at her and smirking.

God, they looked like kids in this picture. Grace shook her head, knowing that looking at this now was bizarre, with the way things had turned out, she never could have predicted this.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if any pictures of her and Ron together existed. They had so many 'normal' habits to catch up on whenever they rejoined society.

Over the next hour, she poured over all of the photos and items in the box. Everything triggered a memory of some sort. There were ribbons and old coins, keys to her father's car and a key to Lew's summer home. Once she had been through it all, she was overwhelmed and exhausted, and the need to stand up and stretch her legs was intense.

She put the items back into the box and shut it, using her foot to push it aside. Gingerly swinging her legs to the side of her bed, she planted her feet on the cool ground. Gradually, she shifted her weight from the bed to her legs, her hands grasping the mattress. Biting her lip at the dull ache from her muscles working, she managed to stand. Her thoughts suddenly jumped to Bill and Toye, and she imagined them getting used to life without a leg. She was lucky she was alive. She grinned then, knowing that even down a leg, Bill and Toye had probably raised hell at the hospital they were at.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a low voice questioned from the doorway.

Grace looked up to Lew, the smile on her face meeting the raised brow on his, "I'm tired of sitting in that damn bed all day".

Lew watched her, ready to pounce should her balance waver, "I heard you just woke up today, how are you sick of being in bed?" He made his way into the room, "it'd be nice to have a break and get to lie in bed all day, I don't know what you're complaining about".

"You think so, huh?" he nodded at her, "well, get shot". Lew barked a laugh, "too soon?" she questioned.

"Looks like you're feeling better", he said.

"I'm glad I'm awake, I don't like being out for that many days".

"I'm happy you're ok", his voice was serious and Grace looked to him.

She nodded, "me too".

Lew smiled tightly at her, then walked towards her, "come here…wait, no - scratch that - I'll come to you", he held his arms out and gently held her to him, "don't scare me like that again, kid".

"I know…I'll try not to".

"I know", he nodded, "I love you, Gracie".

"Love you too, Lew", she murmured against his chest.

**Thank you to all who have reviewed so far! **

**Let me know what you think of this one.**

**Next chapter is in the works.**

**xoxo**


	55. Chapter 55

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**THANK YOU to everyone who read and reviewed! XOXO Thank you so much for sticking with me after another little break! **

"I'm sure no one would have a problem with it, Lieutenant", Gene said, shaking his head.

"Exactly", Grace nodded, trying to remain cordial and understanding; they had been engaging in this 'debate' for twenty minutes now.

"No problems _except_ for you", he clarified, his expression pointed, "it's only been nine days since you were shot in the abdomen…it's too soon."

"I'm not about to go and participate in the morning drills with the men for Christ sake".

"But you would go, right?"

"Well, yes…I mean, they're my men, I'd get up and get out there", she reasoned as his eyebrows rose, "…but I wouldn't _do _them."

"Grace".

"Gene".

"I don't want to argue about this", he sighed.

"Nor do I, doc".

"Yet…here we are", he gestured to them.

She suppressed a smirk, "I don't want to cause you trouble…I really don't, but I'm dying here."

"No, you were dying on that floor in OP2", he said seriously, "I saw it, your men saw it, and Captain Speirs saw it".

Sighing internally, Grace knew he was only trying to take care of her…but she had had enough of being a in the hospital. She wanted to be around her men for as long as she could. She knew she was not going to be deployed to the Pacific, not with this mending hole in her side, and she needed to be with her men and Ron while they were still here. "I'll do better if I'm at CP. I'm serious. I'm not getting deployed, I know that - not with this", she gestured to her side, "and we don't know when things will start to happen if you're all going to the Pacific. I hate that I'm just _sitting_ here _thinking_…I hate it. Please. It's wrong of me to ask you to compromise, and I know that….but please".

A beat of silence passed between them as Gene gazed at her, contemplative. "If there's anything I can give to you before we all go…I suppose I can give you that". Grace's face erupted into a smile, "but don't get ahead of yourself, Lieutenant, let me go talk to Doctor Kemp…you'll hear back later".

"Thank you…thank you, Doc", she whispered.

He winked at her, smirking and walking out, "you got it".

As soon as Gene left, she heard masculine greetings and boot steps right outside her door. She frowned as the commotion stopped and the noise hushed.

"First Lieutenant Grant, what do you think you're doing in bed?!" a deep voice, sounding eerily similar to Captain Sobel, gruffed outside her door. Grace suppressed a laugh, knowing who was behind that voice. "So you were shot last week?...so what! Grab your M1 and go run Currahee in full gear. High ho silver!"

With that, in walked George, Tab, Don, Perco, Lieb, Johnny, Bull, Popeye and Babe, all laughs. Grace smirked tenderly at the sight of them all shoving their way into her room; they were all so big, they made her room immediately appear tiny. Even in an uncomfortable hospital bed, she suddenly felt at ease thanks to her men there with her.

"Don't dare me, George", she spoke to the man with the voice, "you know I could run Currahee right now if I wanted to".

"I wouldn't put it past you", he winked.

"She's done it before", Tab nodded, "ain't that right, Gracie?"

"I think I saw a training course by the lake…maybe later?" Johnny agreed.

"Looking good, Lieutenant", Bull assessed, chewing on a cigar.

"Thank you, Bull….likewise, all of you", she smiled.

"Jesus, it's good to see you awake", Don expressed.

"You bounce back good, Gracie-bird", Joe smirked.

"What do ya say, what do ya hear?" Babe snarked, smiles on all of their faces.

"What's going on, Gracie?" Perco asked, jerking his head towards the door, where they saw Doc leaving.

"Trying to negotiate my way out of here", she offered.

"Jesus, already?" Johnny asked.

"You alright for that?" Don questioned.

"I'm alright", she nodded, "bored and a little sore, but I'm alright". She looked them over, so happy to see their faces. She recognized their attentiveness to her and their protective stances they all held, and knew that they had to be thinking of the last time they saw her: bloody and shaking and dying on a floor. She remembered what happened, but the memory was tarnished by pain - however, for someone who had soberly witnessed the moment, it probably was a hard image to shake. She had been there with other men before; she had seen that too. She had to say something about it. "Thank you for taking care of me that night", they all shifted then, in their own ways - sheepish and shy with the praise, "you…you all did everything right…thank you".

It was silent for only a second as her cheeks grew warm and pink under their touched scrutiny. "Don't mention it, Angel", Johnny shrugged.

"You've done it for us", Tab nodded.

"Luz?" Don whispered.

"Oh, right", George smiled, pulling a large flask from his field jacket.

Lieb and Babe began pulling the wildflowers out of the little glasses on her table nearby. "Now we brought these here for you, Gracie, but they are no coincidence", Perco offered, dumping the water into the empty trashcan.

She watched, amused, as George poured amber liquid into each glass; Grace shifted in bed, pushing herself up further. Don and Bull inched towards her, "you need help, Gracie?" Don asked, his tone poorly hiding concern.

"You alright?" Bull questioned too, their voices overlapping.

"I'm ok, I can manage", she smiled, appreciating their gentleness with her as she took notice of all the men watching her like hawks. Don and Bull ignored her anyway and each put one warm hand on her back with one hovering out in front of her. "Thank you", she whispered.

George handed her the first glass with a wink and then handed the rest around the room, "we've been waiting for this day", he said. When he was done, they all held their glasses up, "Tab, buddy, you're up."

Tab stepped forward, his eyes on Grace, "to all those who we've lost, may we never forget them…and to the ones who are still here with us. We're damn glad you're here, Gracie…this is for you. Cheers". Grace's heart was in her throat as they clinked glasses and swallowed the heady liquid in one go.

"Gotta love whiskey", Perco whispered hoarsely, his nose scrunched up.

"It's an acquired taste", Popeye shrugged.

"He's had years to acquire it", Lieb snarked, "if he don't got it now, he'll never have it".

Grace watched them all banter, their conversation and masculine voices steadying her nerves. How was she going to say goodbye to them? They had become her family; she thought of them when she woke until when she fell asleep. It was going to be hard enough to say goodbye if the Japanese surrendered while they were still here, but she did not want to know the anxiety she would feel should Ron _and _her men be redeployed over there without her. She knew she would be absolutely restless and horrible should that happen. She'd not only worry about them every single day…but Lew, and Harry, and Dick…and most of all Ron. Deciding that she would cross that bridge should they come to it, she tried to banish it from her thoughts.

What would life be like without their continual presence? Grace surmised the majority, if not all, of her men would like to be home and away from this - all the protocol and ranks and patrols - they all had families to get back to. Lives to return to.

She had found herself here, with these men. But she also had found _Ron_ - a hint of what her life would be like beyond the war lived in him. With that thought, her heart warmed. He was her future, her respite, her support; everything. Silently, she said a prayer for her life - that it had been spared, again, and for Ron.

"Wicked Witch of the West is about to make a landing", Babe hushed over the room from the doorway, walking out.

"God damnit", Johnny seethed.

Grace frowned in confusion as she heard an elderly nurse's stern voice call out to Babe; it was a voice she had come to recognize since she woke up. "We understand, nurse, we apologize and we'll be on our way…yes ma'am…thank you ma'am", he walked back in.

"What's the damage?" Bull asked.

Babe shrugged, "she says she's tired of reminding us that there's a limit of visitors…and that we have to leave now, sounds like some of the brass are on their way".

"You call Nurse Campbell the 'Wicked Witch of the West'?" Grace asked, amused.

"You can't blame us, Gracie", Don murmured, "she _hates_ us".

"I wonder why", she winked at him, earning a smirk.

"_We_ are an acquired taste", Perco nodded in their direction.

"Alright boys, flowers back and we're out of here", Johnny ordered, the men immediately refilled the glasses with water and replaced the flowers. Watching them, Grace had a sneaking suspicion that they had done this once or twice before.

"Flowers for the lady", Lieb winked at Grace, kissing her cheek gently as they all murmured their good-byes.

"We'll see you soon", Don grabbed her hand and smiled before following Bull out the door.

"Rest up, Lieutenant", Babe nodded as he passed her an envelope, "letter for you by the way".

Before she could question it, he winked and walked out with the group, leaving Grace with George and Tab.

"I've got to manage some supplies coming in today, Gracie, so I gotta go", George started, leaning down to her, "but you rest up and get better…there's talk of a baseball game between first and second platoon soon and you better be there".

"I wouldn't miss it for the world", she responded warmly as he grasped her hand.

"Back from the dead again, huh?" he muttered.

"Last time…I swear".

"It better be", he kissed her cheek, and pressed something into her palm, "Hershey Bar for luck." With that, he walked out of the room with a nod to Talbert.

Tab and Grace looked at one another, smiles on their faces. "Floyd", she whispered as he leaned to her, cautiously placing his arms around her and sitting on the side of her bed.

"Grace", he whispered back, hugging her gently.

"Thank you for coming…it's so good to see you".

"Of course I was gonna come see you…I was so happy to hear you were awake, all the guys were", he soothed. "I've gotta tell you…you scared the hell out of me. I mean, I thought Bastogne was bad, but Jesus, girl, you've got to stop this".

Grace hushed a laugh and nodded, "I know, I know, believe me. I'm so sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about; that replacement has _everything_ to be sorry about, though".

"I was told one of my men found him that night", she probed.

"Lieb, Don, Bull and Skinny", he answered. Grace closed her eyes and sighed, wondering what _that_ looked like, and also knowing Lieb's temperament. "I know", Tab chuckled, "it was not pretty…but that fucker got what was coming to him".

"Did you…"

"George and I got one hit in each, just one…we sat outside the room he was being kept in, waiting for Speirs, waiting to hear about you".

"How long did that take?"

He shrugged, "I couldn't tell you to be honest…it was a surreal night."

"Tell me about it", she deadpanned.

Tab smirked and laughed lightly after a minute, "I gotta say it, while we're alone…um", he grabbed her left hand, his fingers on her ring, "I think congratulations are in order?"

Grace smiled and Tab laughed again, "thank you". She felt her cheeks burn and she didn't know what to say, "thank you, Floyd."

"George told me he noticed the ring that night…", he told her in a serious tone, "I don't know what _he_ would've done if you didn't make it".

"Ron?" she whispered and Tab nodded. "I don't know", she confessed but then changed her mind, knowing _exactly_ what he would have done; "no…he would have killed that replacement. Without a doubt…regardless of what I had requested."

Tab shook his head, "you should have seen everyone's face when he lowered his sidearm…they couldn't believe what they were seeing".

"Sidearm?" she murmured.

"Shit", he realized what he had just done.

"It's alright, I'm not surprised." Shifting slightly in bed, Grace ignored the aching from her side.

He breathed a sigh of relief, "ok good, Jesus".

Grace interrupted him easily, "but you're going to tell me what exactly happened".

Smirking, he nodded, "…he came stalking in, and it was fucking terrifying. I had never seen him look like that; I mean, I knew there were rumors about him, but shit…seeing _that_, now I know why. He yelled at me…"

"He yelled at you?"

"He asked where he was - the replacement - his sidearm was already drawn, so I stalled him", Tab explained, "I asked about you, how you were…and he exploded. That's when I pointed to the next room. He walked in there, where the rest of the men were, and asked the guy where the weapon was. That piece of shit had the nerve to say 'what weapon'."

"Jesus", Grace whispered, her gut tightening.

"That's when Speirs hit him with the butt of his gun, wham…right across the face."

"Fuck", she breathed, feeling the sudden desire to kiss Ron.

"He deserved it, Gracie. I mean, no one flinched when he did it. He fuckin' deserved it. But then Speirs got mad…you could tell….just _seething_." Tab's eyes glazed over, recalling it, "he pointed the gun at his face, held it there for a minute, but then lowered it…then ordered for the MP's".

Breathing in and out quietly, Grace's heart was pounding, "I don't know what to say", she hushed after a minute.

"There's nothing to say", he confirmed, speaking frankly, "…in that moment, there _were_ no rules or ranks…it was a man protecting the woman he loves and keeping his promise."

Grace held Floyd's gaze, so incredibly grateful for his honesty and candidness, "thank you for telling me…and thank you, for everything else. Jesus… '_thank you' _is not enough. I love you, Floyd".

His eyes crinkled at her as he smiled, "love you too, Gracie". He gestured to the letter in her hands that Babe had given her, "who's the letter from?"

She read the return address' name on the envelope, smiling, "it's from Bill".

"Holy shit", Tab grinned, "well I'll leave you to your letter. You call on me if you need anything at all".

"Thanks Floyd, I will", she promised.

"Rest up, you'll be out of here soon enough…in fact, Speirs had your things already put in your room".

"He did?"

"Yep", Tab nodded his head, "saw it myself. Now rest up…I'll talk to you later".

Grace smiled at him as he walked out of her room. She turned her attention back down to the letter from Bill in her hands. Smiling fondly at his neat script, she read;

'Gracie-bird,  
>First things first - Babe told me you got shot.<br>You could imagine my reaction to that news. Toye is still here with me and he was not happy either. We both thought of you, prayed for you. Babe managed to send us a telegram with the news a few days later that you were stable. I hope by the time he gets this to you, you're awake and fending off all the attention I'm sure you're getting from the boys…and a certain Officer that will remain nameless.  
>I also heard someone spotted a ring on your finger. He's finally making an honest woman out of you, huh?'<p>

Grace rolled her eyes at that sentence….of course the men had noticed and written about it. She smirked despite herself - _they wouldn't be her men if they didn't notice_.

'He's a strong man - and I'm sure if you're marrying him then he's a good one. I'll trust your judgment on this, but he will catch all sorts of hell from me and the rest of the 101st if he doesn't treat you right.  
>You are one hell of a woman, Grace, and one hell of a Lieutenant and platoon leader. I'll be damned if you don't get to live your life in peace after this is all over.<br>I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me. Jesus - as I write this, I can imagine you trying to interrupt me and saying that I'm the one who needs to be thanked. But I'm gonna say it first: I would have been different had I not met you, Gracie. And I'm thankful for that.  
>I'm taking the responsibility of making sure everyone gets together after you all get home. Most of us should be staying on the East Coast for a little while - I say we do it.<br>You'll be hearing from me, Angel - I can't wait to see you in a dress state-side.  
>Say hello to the boys for me.<br>Love,  
>Wild Bill'<p>

After procuring paper, a pen, and an envelope, Grace had written him back. She had sat there for twenty minutes thinking of what to say besides the obvious. How to do you write to someone when you have been through the unthinkable with them? Still, she had managed to do it without shedding too many tears. She had to remember to request a painkiller when the nurse made her rounds - her side had begun a dull ache since her men had left.

"Lieutenant Grant". Grace turned toward the door. Standing there was Colonel Sink, Major Kemp, Dick, Lew, Harry, Lip, and Ron, who winked at her from the back of the group. She made to turn and stand, thanking herself for brushing her hair earlier when Sink's hand shot up, "please don't get up. May we enter?"

Her heart clenched at his politeness, "of course you may, Colonel. How are you?"

"Good God, Grant - I should be asking that about you first", he declared. Behind him, Lew chuckled. "I hear you've been getting a lot of visitors. The nurse outside had a mouthful to say about how many men have been here every day." Grace took a breath to explain when Sink interrupted her, "you're popular - no need to make excuses for your men."

"Thank you, sir", she responded.

"In fact, I can tell you that many of us in this room have been to visit you since you were wounded…and we are all incredibly happy to see you awake now."

"Thank you again, sir".

"Absolutely Lieutenant Grant", he nodded, bringing a small velvet box in front of him; it was then that she noticed they were all dressed in their dress greens. "As soon as I heard you were awake and responsive, I gathered everyone here." Grace looked to Ron, who was positively beaming at her, along with the rest of the men in front of her. Colonel Sink stepped forward and opened the box, "Lieutenant Grant, I am honored present you with the Distinguished Service Medal, which you have earned one hundred times over for your achievements and accomplishments, and your numerous contributions to the United States Military."

Immediately choked up, Grace got chills over her entire body as she listened to Colonel Sink then looked upon the medal nestled in the velvet box. On the medal, there was a golden eagle surrounded by a blue ring with the words 'For Distinguished Service' engraved in gold. She took a breath and gently accepted the box, "I…uh…thank you, Colonel Sink". Taking the medal into her hand, she was breathless, "thank you".

"You earned it, Lieutenant", Sink confirmed, "every man here and in the entire outfit thinks so. General McAuliffe would have been here himself, but you and your men have helped to end the war - and that's what he's dealing with right now; though he does send his deepest regards." Grace nodded in thanks, speechless. "One more thing, Lieutenant. With your wound healing and the end of the war within reach, it is befitting to me to give this to you now." He handed her a crisp paper that she recognized with a pang. "This is your honorable discharge." She fought the negative reaction, knowing that this was expected, and now that the war was over in Europe, it would be common. "It states that you will be stationed here with us until we deploy or the war is over - whichever comes first".

She breathed a silent sigh in relief. She wasn't ready to leave her men yet - to go home without Ron, "thank you, sir. It has been an honor to serve under you, and to serve with all of you". She caught Dick's eye and he winked at her, Lew beside him grinning.

"I knew it when I first saw you, Grace - you are one hell of a paratrooper", Sink gruffed out. Before she could thank him again, he gestured to Major Kemp, "now Doctor Kemp here has something to say".

Kemp nodded to her, "congratulations, Lieutenant".

"Thank you, Doctor", she smiled.

"I'm allowing you to be transferred to Easy Company CP", he explained to Grace's delight, "you can leave now, right after we conclude here. But you know the rules - take it easy, take your medication, and change your bandages."

"Absolutely, sir; thank you", she nodded.

"Alright Grace, before you leap out of bed, we'll leave you to gather your things. We'll send orderlies here to grab what you'll need." Sink nodded, "congratulations, Grace, you made an impact on our efforts - and we couldn't have done it without you".

He held out his hand and she took it, shaking, "thank you very much, sir. I wouldn't have been here without you." Sink winked at her and left the room, Kemp following behind.

Left in her room was Dick, Lew, Harry, Lip, and Ron who all immediately congratulated her and hugged her. As they were leaving, about an hour later, Lew stayed behind with Grace and Ron and turned to them.

"I've got something for you", he explained, handing over a large envelope, "consider it an engagement gift", he winked and left them alone.

Amused and opening it, Grace pulled out the paper that was inside. It was a photograph from Toccoa; Grace recognized the barracks. It was of her and Ron. They were leaning against the wall of the barracks; she held a cigarette to her side, looking outwards towards Currahee, and he stood gazing at her, a contemplative and intense look on his face. "Oh my god" she murmured, she had no idea that anyone had taken that picture of them.

Ron was stunned looking at the intimate photo. It had been taken in Georgia when they were still getting to know one another. "This is amazing", he whispered.

"I had no idea that this existed", she laughed.

"Neither did I, but I'm glad it does", he agreed, "You look beautiful, as always…you always looked so beautiful". Grace scoffed but he shook his head adamantly, "I'm serious - after running Currahee, after the obstacle course…before jumping on DDay, when you're firing your weapon…beautiful." He regarded her face thoughtfully, "you are the perfect woman for me."

"I love you", she whispered.

"I love you too", he responded. "Congratulations on your medal, Grace. I'm so proud of you".

"Thank you", she breathed as he leaned forward and kissed her reverently, his hand dragging down her neck gently. "Where should we put the picture?" she asked.

"We'll have to frame it when we get home", he said simply.

"I adore the sound of that", she smiled.

Oooooooooooo

A couple hours later, Grace was standing in her room in CP. Her things had already been taken there, overseen by Ron days before.

"We should change your bandages", Ron insisted, grabbing the kit Grace had been given from the hospital.

"You don't have to, I've got it", she said as he reached for her shirt as she sat down on her large bed.

"I want to take care of you", he maintained, "let me take care of you". Grace nodded and watched as he gently lifted up her white paratroopers t-shirt. He unwound the bandage around her waist, exposing the dollar-sized patch that directly covered her stitches. Grace reached for the aid kit, "I've got it, love", he stopped her. He readied a new patch, tape, and a new bandage and then softly peeled away the patch on her abdomen. He hissed at the stitches quietly, taking care with pressing the clean patch to the area and taping it down. He wound the new bandage around her waist, and then he tenderly placed his hand over her injury.

Grace watched his face with affection, grateful he was here with her, "I'm so happy that you're here with me".

He looked at as he stood up, "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else". He walked over to a table nearby that had a record player resting on it. Ron lifted the needle and placed it, turning around, "don't ask me where I found any of this", he grinned to her. Walking forward, he held his hands out to her and helped her up. He wound an arm gently around her waist as his other held hers, "you're still healing and I need to be delicate with you, but because I want to be near to you - I figured _this_ was the next best thing".

Moonlight Serenade rang through the speakers of the record player and Grace's heart skipped a beat, "Ron…"

"This song was playing when I danced with you the first time", he whispered, "I was so nervous that night. I knew it then…I had known long before that, that I was meant for you", he confessed. "I love you, Grace", he sighed. They smiled at one another, and he leaned down to kiss her softly. "It's taken me a while to find this record", he admitted, breathing her in, "God, it feels so good to hold you."

They stood there, barely dancing, simply holding one another in contentment as the music twirled around them. They kissed, drowning in one another slowly as the sun went down outside her window.

**Thank you so much for reading! We've got ONE MORE CHAPTER to go. Please let me know what you think!**

**Love to you all! XOXOXOXOXOXO**


	56. Chapter 56

"_**Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

**THANK YOU TO EVERYONE FOR READING MY STORY. What started as a little foray into indulging my imagination soon transformed into an amazing journey. I cannot express to you all how grateful I am for you. It's going to be hard to say goodbye to Grace Grant, a lady after my own heart. **

**I **_**can **_**say that I have been working on another Band of Brothers story that I intend to post. Different pairing and OFC - she's really something and I'm excited to get your feedback about her, so keep my author-name on your alerts! **

**As always - my inbox/PM is perpetually open. If anyone wants to talk and share ideas, I'm your girl.**

**XOXOXOXO - finn**

She couldn't remember the last time she sat beside a lake in total silence. The gentle lapping of tiny waves against the sand was the only sound.

Grace thought it was curious; she was in awe of how one single life offered a kaleidoscope of experiences. One moment could be utterly chaotic, the next peaceful. Here she was, studying the sunlight's play on the water - while mere months ago, they were stuck in foxholes braving the endless shelling from German eighty-eights. Even now, she thought, somewhere in Japan a war was happening - while she's here, in the August warmth, able to enjoy the tranquil lake with Ron beside her.

"You alright?" he asked, his tone relaxed.

"I am, thank you", she murmured back, relishing in the heat his body provided.

They had found a quiet, secluded spot along the expansive lake over an hour ago. With the golden afternoon sun glittering on the lake, they sat together in comfortable silence; Grace's back resting against Ron's chest.

He had proven himself an efficient nurse since she had moved back to CP. Incredibly gentle and patient, he had revealed another side of himself to her: the care-giver. He had always been sensitive to her welfare, but since she was shot, it had been elevated to a whole new level; not that she minded entirely, after all she was still mending. Over the last few weeks, in their moments of seclusion, she had been given a glimpse as to how things might be when they got home.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked gently.

"You", she responded easily.

"Me, huh?" a smile was in his voice.

"You're always worth thinking about", she confirmed, "what are you thinking about?"

"Going home with you", his tone was clear.

Suddenly it dawned on her, "we have a wedding to plan".

His arms gently tightened around her, "yes, we do".

"Jesus, how is this all going to work?" she asked, beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed, "going back to the states and leaving all of this, sorting my dad's house, jobs, a _wedding_…"

"One day at a time", he soothed. "First, we'll leave all this behind and ship back to the states, probably to New York. There, we'll get a drink with the men and then I'm going to dance with you all night." He bit his lip, smirking, "then the next day I'm buying you a proper ring".

She smiled, unsurprised by the conviction in his voice, "you certainly have all this planned out".

"Of course I do", he stated.

"Of course", she giggled.

"Then after _that_, after we've said our goodbye's to everyone, I am going to go with you to your father's house to help you sort it all out. We will take as long as you want with it, and I'm sure Lewis will want to help as well."

"Has he said anything to you about it?"

Ron shook his head, "not yet". He leaned down after a moment of silence and kissed her temple, "my parents are going to adore you. I'm excited for you to meet them…we can plan that to happen next".

"I'm excited too", she sighed, enjoying his warm hands on hers. "Look at us, planning a life together".

He smirked, remembering the first time he saw the woman in his arms, "who would have thought…that the amazing, beautiful paratrooper I saw that day on the training course would be my wife".

"Who would have thought that the handsome Lieutenant who offered me a cigarette would be my husband?" she countered, indulging in the sweet nostalgia.

"Life is full of surprises", he murmured.

"Good surprises?" she whispered teasingly.

"The very best".

After another stretch of comfortable quiet, with the wind playing with the leaves, a thought came to Grace's mind, "how do we get a job back at home? How does that work now?"

He closed his eyes, breathing her in and willing her stresses and fears away; they would have time and plentiful resources to establish themselves. "I'm not going to worry about a job…something will come up, love".

Grace took the opportunity to ask the question she'd been wanting the answer to for quite some time, "you've decided not to stay in the army?"

"No", he responded serenely, "I did what I came here to do, and it's time to walk away." He grinned, "I may have looted enough to last a lifetime, but I'm walking away with you - there's nothing left for me in the army". Grace turned slightly in his arms and kissed his cheek and he hummed in pleasure. "I'm thinking about using my connections here, though, to find a future job".

"That's a good idea", she nodded, "I'll probably do the same".

"After all of that, we're going to find our own place….and _then_ plan our wedding", he ran his hands up and down her shoulders, "we've got each other, and we'll figure it all out together". She turned in his arms to face him, her expression earnest. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his, kissing him thoroughly. He sighed into her mouth and felt her smile, "I don't believe I will ever grow tired to kissing you".

"I love you, Ron", she sighed, feeling better.

He smiled and pressed his lips to her temple, "I love you too, Grace".

Oooooooooooooooooo

The next morning, Grace lay next to Ron in bed, studying the early light's play on his eyelashes - her new favorite pastime, one she hoped would last forever. His face was relaxed, eyes closed as he focused on the feeling of her fingers running up and down the inside of his arm.

"I'd like to go to PT with you this morning", she stated calmly. Silently, he opened his eyes and gazed at her inquisitively. "I know what you're thinking", she nodded gently, allowing his rebuttal.

"You're still mending", his tone was tender.

"I will not participate, I know I'm not ready for that", she agreed, "I just want to be there for my men."

"And you want to make Peacock nervous", he smirked, knowing Grace's presence and reputation put Peacock on edge - not that Ron minded, Peacock needed to be put in his place, he was constantly making mistakes.

Grace ignored that comment, "my discharge is not valid until Japan serves us with an unconditional surrender, or until you get redeployed to the Pacific…whichever comes first." She pressed her lips to Ron's cheek softly, "which means, second platoon is still _mine_."

Ron turned to her, intercepting her second kiss with his lips, "you have my permission, Lieutenant".

Grinning into the kiss, she smiled, "thank you, Captain".

He ran a hand lightly down her face, "no thanks needed", he shrugged, "but I _will_ say that you have an interesting idea of pillow-talk, Angel".

She laughed softly, "Oh don't test me on bedroom talk, _Sparky_, not if you know what's good for you".

Gently slipping her beneath him, he grinned over her, "is that a challenge?"

"Mmmm…that reminds me", she smiled, "Lew says he's worried about us having children".

"And why is that?" he murmured against the skin of her neck, being incredibly careful of her mending side.

"He says that _our_ children will undoubtedly take over the world".

Ron shrugged easily, "of course they will, with you as their mother, I wouldn't expect anything less". Calmly, she studied his face; the light freckles across his nose, the shape of his lips, and angle of his brow when he looked her like he was right now. "I love you", he murmured.

"I love you too", she breathed.

"Time to get up for PT?" She nodded and he smiled at her, giving her room to get up.

Grace gingerly placed her feet on the hardwood floor of Ron's room, preparing herself to get up. The floors were warm from the sun shining in through the opened window. Outside, she could see the unblemished view of the dark blue lake, the mountains above looming over as perfect guardians. The cool breeze that meandered into the room brought with it the sounds of paratroopers outside, gathering into formation for their morning drills.

Grace tried to burn into memory this feeling of absolute obligation. She felt needed and she liked that feeling – having an important job to do, having people rely on her to get it done. She felt guilty for dreading the end of the war. She didn't know her place at home. What was she to do? Pushing away her overwhelming anxiety at that continuing nightmare of a question, she stood up while trying to ignore Ron's eyes on her, searching for any sign of discomfort.

With her back to him now getting out bed himself, she sighed silently, trying to control her breathing. She was still in pain; there was no reason to lie to herself. She was however, playing down her pain for Ron, Lew, Gene, Dick, Harry, Lip, and anyone else who asked…which was everyone. She did not wish to be coddled or waited on. To be fair, they had all seen her on the brink of death, as Gene kept gently reminding her, so it was only normal that they treat her like a porcelain doll…but she wanted to be there for her men if they were going to be shipped out to Japan, God-forbid. She had been to hell and back with them and she would rather Peacock step over her cold, dead body than screw up her platoon now.

'1-2-3-4', breathe in, '1-2-3-4', breath out, she chanted silently to herself as she pulled up her BDU pants. Scrunching her face up, she held her breath as she buttoned them up and slipped on her BDU shirt, ignoring the pulling coming from her bandaged abdomen. Looking over to her jump boots, she glared at them as she contemplated having to bend over to put them on.

From behind her, Ron had been watching like a hawk. He knew she was in pain but staying quiet, Roe had been briefing him – which was usual practice for a wounded trooper coming back to the company. However, _this_ trooper was Ron's fiancé, and he was keen to keep her comfortable and more importantly, healing. He silently watched as her BDU shirt draped over her shoulders and she looked warily over to her boots.

"I'm here to help", he offered softly.

"I know", she whispered after moment of silence.

She knew her time in the military was nearly over, but that didn't mean that she stopped her daydreams of jumping on Japan with them all. Getting shot, then all the weeks of pain following made her feel completely helpless. She was ridiculous, she knew it, but in the back of her mind she wanted them all to think she could still do it – she could still jump and fight and be ok. She wanted Ron to think that she could.

Clenching her jaw, she walked over to her boots in the corner of the room and fluidly sat down on the nearby chair. From his position on the bed, Ron had just finished tying his own boots when he heard the familiar sound of leather pulling open. He held his breath as he listened to her calculated breathing and the shoelaces slap the ground. He would be as patient as she needed him to be. She had allowed him so much time to fuss over her – and that required him to wait for her ask for his help now.

A muffled gasp erupted behind him and he stood up impulsively.

"Grace?"

She had her BDU collar between her teeth as she sighed, "can I have your help?"

"Of course you can".

"I'm sorry", she whispered, out of breath.

"I know you're capable", he said, kneeling before her, "…you're still healing".

Grace held her tongue not wishing to be obstinate. Ron had done so much for her so she was determined to be patient for him. "Thank you", she sighed as he finished.

Holding his hands out to her, he helped her stand up, "shall we?"

Ooooooooooo

Once outside and in their jeep, Ron and Grace made their way to the field nearby. Recently, the boys had been building a backstop for a baseball field they wanted. The weather had been so nice and they had all been talking about a baseball game between first and second platoons for so long, Dick had given them the go-ahead to build it. Grace smiled as they drove past, pleased to see that it appeared to be completed.

Ron pulled the jeep to the side and slowed to a stop as they reached Easy, now in formation with their platoon leaders out in front. Her men in second all saluted her when they pulled up and she saluted back. She noticed that Lieutenant Peacock had not saluted and ignored her completely, conveniently retying his boots at the exact moment. Grace remained silent, but she bristled at the obvious slight.

"Fucking asshole", Ron fumed as he put the jeep in park; obviously he had also noticed.

"Just let it go", she breathed, calming him.

He took a deep breath and turned to her, his eyes searching her face, "you'll be ok?"

"I'll be grand", she responded reassuringly, "go ahead, Captain".

He smirked at her as she winked and he jumped out of the jeep, "Easy Company!"

Grace watched intently as Ron gave his orders for a detailed, yet routine, weapons exercise. Grace knew this exercise like the back her hand. Suddenly, sitting alone in the jeep, she felt like a schoolgirl who had to sit on the sidelines of a school dance when her favorite song had just come on the record player.

A couple of hours into the drill, Grace was on edge.

Peacock was making mistakes; big mistakes…mistakes someone with his combat history should not be making.

Nearing the end of the drills, her eyes were burning holes into Peacock's head.

Ron kept having to correct him, his patience was obviously wearing thin now and he knew he was on the verge of exploding. Concerned for Grace's sanity, he glanced her way, noting her rigid posture and clenched jaw. He knew she was yearning to jump on Japan should Easy be redeployed. Her fierce loyalty to her platoon was her way of supporting them for as long as she could…before they were taken away from her. He couldn't imagine her anguish, but Ron did not want her to hurt herself right now. He didn't want to have to tell her to relax – she could tear something if she wasn't careful.

Her platoon was standing, waiting for direction from their squad leaders, while Peacock shouted the wrong order above them all, sending all of the replacements of her platoon to their knees in a confused defensive position, their rifles pointed at the rest of the company.

Her reaction was instant, "HALT! Halt! Second platoon - stand down!" She yelled across the field to her platoon, getting their immediate attention. While standing up from the jeep at once and exiting swiftly, she kept her eyes on Peacock, "we are using live rounds for this exercise, Lieutenant, you do not call out a defensive maneuver while our men are the field".

"I was following Captain Speirs' orders", Peacock defended himself, "I heard him call for this maneuver".

"You heard wrong", Grace corrected him, making sure to lower her voice so the men did not overhear. Suddenly lightheaded, she only realized then that she had crossed the entire field to get to her platoon in half a second. Digging her fingers into her hips to combat against the pain, she focused on breathing; she was not about to pass out when she was standing her ground and defending her men.

"You them him, Gracie-bird", Malarkey hushed to himself, George, Tab and Lieb standing nearby in the cluster of troopers.

Tab looked Grace over, noting her upright and correct posture. He couldn't believe that this woman had been near death in front of them all – and now she was chewing out Peacock for a fuck-up. Internally, he scoffed – this was Grace Grant…_of course_ he could believe it.

Beside Malarkey, George looked over to Speirs' form, making his way hastily over to her, "here it comes", he whispered.

Peacock shook his head, "the order was a simple one, Lieutenant, I heard it just fine".

Grace knew that Peacock hated being called out; however she was not acting out of spite this time, "then why were half of them on their knees, weapons drawn?" He didn't have an answer, and his silence was telling, "I thought so."

Ron walked up then, his blood boiling and his focused stare aimed right at Peacock, "Peacock, do you care to tell me why half of second was ready to open fire on my company?" After letting the silence lay heavily on Peacock's shoulders, he turned to Grace, "why are you out of the jeep?" he muttered quickly, his heart pounding. His eyes raked her posture, ready to grab her should she stumble.

"Misheard your order, sir", Peacock explained eagerly, "Lieutenant Grant corrected me before any mishaps occurred."

"Are you alright?" his voice was low and serious in her ear, completely ignoring Peacock as he noticed her fingers gripping into her hips.

"I'm pissed that my platoon almost shot one another by mistake", she responded calmly with her eyes on Peacock. Satisfied with her answer for now, Ron stalked over to second platoon, the majority of which had their prideful eyes fixed on Grace.

"Honest error", Peacock whispered to her.

Her head tilted to the side in mockery, "is that what you would have said if one my men got shot?"

"Aren't you in reserve due to your injury?" his tone was colored with blame, comfortable to talk back now that Ron was far enough away.

"Lieutenant Grant is still second's leader, injury or not", Ron corrected forcefully, venom in his gravelly voice and yards away. Peacock turned red, realizing he was overheard.

"She's a platoon leader, Lieutenant, you'll remember that the next time she offers you correction", Dick appeared out of nowhere from the driver's side of a jeep, Lew sat shotgun with a smug grin on his face.

"Yes, sir", Peacock nodded, his neck turning red.

Dick surveyed the men then turned to Ron, "I think we've been at this long enough for today, Ron".

"Yes, sir", Ron turned to the field, "Easy Company, dismissed from drill".

"Liebgott", Dick called out over the men's voices, "I need a translator."

Lew spoke to Grace as Ron walked towards her, "are you supposed to be standing?" Grace fixed him with a look and he smirked, "alright...then, you up for seeing a German general surrender?"

After agreeing to follow Nix and Winters, Ron chided himself once they were alone and walking back to their jeep and out of earshot, "I should be taking you to see Dr. Kemp".

"Don't talk yourself out of this, I'm fine", Grace reassured him, "I want to hear this German General surrender…we both have earned that".

"It won't be worth it if you're seriously hurt".

Ron turned to her slightly, his hand coming up to grasp her elbow, "I'm alright", she nodded tensely, intent on putting on a good face and forgoing help in front of her men. She walked beside Ron, back to the jeep, her jaw clenched tight.

Getting back to the jeep was incredibly difficult. The throbbing from her side indicated irritation but not sever trauma, but even Grace knew when she overdid it. However, she would have rather ran Currahee than let on and become a spectacle. Beside her, Ron was obviously furious.

Biting her lip hard, Grace got herself back into the jeep while Ron was barking orders out to the platoon leaders beside her.

"I'm taking you to the medics", he gruffed out as he got into the jeep. Grace would have responded if she could speak without gasping, instead she clenched her jaw and kept her focus ahead, on Lew and Dick's bouncing figures in their jeep. Ron looked over to her instantly, concerned at her silence. His eyes dropped down to see that her hands were in fists on her knees and shaking. Calmly, he looked forward, his hands gripping the steering wheel dangerously, "I'm going to kill him".

"My stitches are fine. I'm just sore, that's all", Ron fixed her with an inquisitive stare and she acquiesced, "I'll see Dr. Kemp afterwards".

Oooooooooo

Pulling up to an open field, Grace could see a large crowd of German soldiers flanked by their respective officers.

Looking out over all of their faces, she tried to imagine if the tables had been turned. What if the allied forces hadn't won the war in the European theatre? That, of course, would directly affect what was happening right now in the Pacific. How would the world have changed? How would it change now that they'd been victorious?

Thinking about the work camps that they had liberated, Grace could not help but think the right side won.

Ron parked their jeep beside Dick and Lew's. He turned to her, his gaze unwavering, "you know I act the way I do, and say what I do because I care about you, immensely".

Grace took in the protective tension in his shoulders and reached out to take his hand, "I know you do", she smiled softly, "I have no problem with the way that you are; I take no issue with it, I understand it completely". He smiled back at her tenderly as she added, "thank you for defending me".

"I always will, Grace".

He helped her from the jeep and they walked over to meet Dick and Lew.

"Want a seat?" Dick offered, gently taking Grace's hand and helping her into the back seat of his jeep, behind Lew, as Lipton jumped out.

"Thank you, Dick", she smiled as Ron stood directly beside her.

"Holy shit", Lieb muttered, his forearms resting on the jeep beside Ron.

Grace followed his line of sight and saw Captain Sobel stalking their way, an orderly keeping pace with him. She took the moment to appreciate the irony. Here they were, still together and alive – the core group – and there he was, a supply officer. It was so odd.

The orderly dutifully saluted Winters. Sobel looked the other way.

Dick was the only one to move as his right hand came up to meet his brow as he saluted back. "Captain Sobel", he called, Sobel's steps faltered a bit. "Captain Sobel", Dick spoke again, stopping him in his tracks, "we salute the rank, not the man".

Grace was astonished. Behind her, Lieb sniggered and poked her shoulder. Sobel, his eyes as wide as saucers, begrudgingly saluted Dick then kept walking.

Dick turned to Lew, a smug grin on his handsome face. Grace could safely say to herself that she had never seen that level of haughtiness on Dick. She liked it. Lew smirked, shaking his head slowly.

The General approached their jeep; Lip stood in front if him. The General only had eyes for Dick. Dick gently waved his hand, gesturing to Lip.

"With your permission, I would like to address my men briefly", he spoke in a clipped tone to Lip.

Lip nodded, "that will be fine, General".

Grace watched him walk away and she wondered absently if a year ago, this same general was ordering eighty-eights on them in Bastogne. The rules of war…what an odd concept.

The German General took his place in front of his men at that moment and after a beat of silence, he began to speak earnestly.

"Liebgott?" Lew muttered.

Lieb began to translate in a solemn tone, "Men, it's been a long war, it's been a tough war. You've fought bravely, proudly for your country. You're a special group. You've found in one another a bond that exists only in combat, among brothers." Grace would have been daft to have not immediately seen the parallels in the General's speech. Her eyes travelled over the men, who looked up at him absorbedly. "You've shared foxholes, held each other in dire moments. You've seen death and suffered together." Ron looked down at Grace, his hand seeking hers. He looked back up at the General, his jaw clenched. "I'm proud to have served with each and every one of you. You all deserve long and happy lives in peace."

As the silence stretched after he finished, Grace could feel her heart pounding, her skin tingling. This was a profound moment…and she was speechless.

Oooooooooooo

The afternoon sun was warm but the mountain breeze that swirled around was nice and cool. Grace had just finished a second check-up appointment with Dr Kemp and was making her way to the newly completed baseball field in her jeep. Dr. Kemp only allowed her to go when she promised him that she would not be playing ball with the men. After all her time in the army, she could safely say when it came to her hurting herself, no one believed her when she said she would stay immobile. She honestly couldn't blame them - she knew she was a horrible patient.

Grace never thought of herself as reckless, but her time with Easy Company made her think differently now. When it came down to it, she would gladly act reckless to save one of her men. However, with the war nearly over, she may never have to make that sacrifice again.

As she approached the ball field, she noticed a few other jeeps with officers standing around. She quietly parked her jeep behind the others, successful in her attempt to remain unnoticed. As she walked up, her brow furrowed, not spotting Ron amongst the men.

Her eyes found Lew and Dick, sitting against their jeep in their dress greens, "looking good Major, Captain…very sharp", she smiled as she walked over to them, "I feel a bit underdressed", she gestured to her paratroopers t-shirt, pants, and jump boots.

"Grace, you look well. How do you feel?" Dick inquired, his eyes raking over her posture.

"I feel good, Dick, thank you. Just left a check-up with Dr. Kemp."

"He didn't give you any grief?" Lew smirked.

Grace shrugged, "he made me promise not to play ball…like any of you would let me if I tried".

"I wouldn't put it past you, Grace", Dick laughed.

"You're funny", she smirked as she looked out over the diamond, "who's winning?"

"Second platoon", Lew answered, "which is a good thing - if they were behind, I think we'd have to restrain you from stepping up to bat".

"That 'a boy, Malarkey!" Johnny called out as the crack of Don's bat echoed in the clearing. Grace had to refrain from hollering out in encouragement, her injury was still mending, so she applauded instead.

"Gracie-bird!" Harry yelled over the shouts from the men playing. Lip sat beside Harry, grinning. "You shine up like a new penny, Angel", he appraised her as she walked over to them.

"How are you feeling?" Lip asked, "do you want to sit down?" He gestured to his seat.

"I'm good, Lip, thank you. It feels good to be standing, to be honest - it's been a while".

Lip smirked, "it's damn good to see you up, Grace".

POP! Grace turned towards the crack of the bat.

A high ball flew above the catcher's head and he stood and threw his mask to the ground.

"Is that…?" Grace began, walking forward. Lip and Harry exchanged grins behind her. The catcher caught the ball and turned to her and her heart fell through her body. "Buck?"

"That's strike three, boys!" Buck called out, turning to Grace, an enormous smile on his face. "Gracie-bird!" He yelled as he ran around the backstop.

"Holy shit", she laughed as he came to a stop in front of her. "You look great, Buck."

He pulled her in for a soft hug, "you're a damn sight for sore eyes, Angel", he said, looking her over. "Don't think I didn't hear about that hole in your side."

"I'm still standing, Buck".

"Don't I know it", he grinned, shaking his head, "you've gotta stop scaring the boys…it's getting a little old".

She nodded sheepishly, "yeah, tell me something I don't know". Her eyes studied him, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm good, Grace. I'm real good", he said honestly. His eyes skipped past her and he smirked, "I better be invited to the wedding", he said in a low voice.

"Easy Company! School circle!" Ron's voice called out over the men's chatter.

Grace kept her eyes on Buck, "I'll kill ya if you're not there".

He winked, "I'll kill ya if you don't save me a dance, sweetheart". Chuckling as he jogged to join the men, Grace made her way over to stand by Lew up against a jeep.

"Hey stranger", he drawled.

"Did you know Buck was here?"

He slipped off his aviators, "he made me promise not to tell you". Grace scoffed and he continued, "do you know what day it is?"

"Surprise me", she joked.

"It's D-Day plus 434", he replied.

"…really?" she whispered, letting that sink in as she turned to Dick.

"This morning", Dick began, "President Truman received the unconditional surrender of the Japanese." He took a breath and nodded his head, "the war is over".

At first, silence met his words.

Grace found it hard to breathe, as she looked across the circle to Ron, who was staring right back at her, his face calm.

Suddenly, the men began to shout and holler at one another. Surely, another party was well on its way.

Grace kept her eyes on Ron. The war was over. Gratitude flooded her as she thanked God that Ron and her men would not be redeployed. She thought of Chuck and her father and she hoped they were at peace now. The fighting was over. This meant she was free to begin her life…her life with Ron.

Ron kept his eyes on Grace as he approached her, her gaze like a snare. He stopped close to her, a smirk playing on his features, "you're a free woman now; your discharge has gone through." Before she could think, he had closed the space between them and captured her lips in a romantic kiss, with one arm around her waist and one hand cupping her face. Hearing hoots and whistles, he pulled away gently, his eyes holding no shame, "Happy V-J Day, Grace".

June 6th, 1946

She stood barefoot on the bank of the tranquil river beside their home, his chest pressed to her back and his arms around her waist; watching the sun set behind the bank of mature trees across from them.

The cool breeze turned toward then, sending a mixed perfume of earth, sap, and clay their way. It was reminiscent of troop plane exhaust and soot; her heart throbbed at the vivid memory, remembering D-Day, remembering their first kiss in the tent when she painted the black stripes on his face. She turned in his arms slowly, placing her fingertips on his cheeks and dragging them down gently, enjoying the familiar tickle of the stubble on his face. She searched his amused eyes cautiously, and watched as his expression melted into pure nostalgia.

"I love you", his voice was deep, emotional.

She breathed softly, "I love you too".

He leaned into her, accepting her warmth as his lips pressed to hers, his heart pounding steadily between them. She sighed into his kiss, enjoying the feel of the cool sand beneath her toes. She worked them into the sand, feeling the tiny delicious pain of friction of fine chips of silicon against the tender flesh between her toes.

That's life. It hurts, it's dirty…and it feels very, very good.

**To all of my readers and lovely people who have taken the time to leave me a note with your thoughts, I cannot express how amazing it has been getting to know you. Your thoughts, worries, and perceptions of Ron and Grace have truly moved me and I am forever grateful for you all. Your words have made me laugh, motivated me, and inspired me.**

**Keep me on your alerts - I have more to write and I dearly hope you'll stick around for me to share it with you.**

**Xoxo - Finn**


End file.
